So You Want To Be A Hero
by Snarf
Summary: The town of Spielburg is under a curse and desperately needs a hero. Four people arrive to fill the position. Can they overcome their differences enough to save the town? Part one of a rewrite of the entire Quest for Glory series. 08/18/10- Completed!
1. Prologue

So You Want To Be A Hero

Prologue

Hans waded through the last of the waist deep snow, glad to finally be able to see green again. He would have been happy with even mud brown, but green lifted his spirits. He was here!

Spielburg!

Ever since he had his sister read that flier to him in the Adventurer's Guild back home, he knew that it was his destiny to become the Hero of Spielburg. No, maybe it was before that, when he opened the mis-delivered package that had contained a nice sword, a shirt of leather armor, and an instruction booklet. The "Hero at home" package, part of the Famous Adventurer's Correspondence School's home schooling program.

At first, he was going to do the right thing and find the person who had ordered the package. But something had changed the minute he held the sword. It felt different in his hand, not like the farming tools. 

It felt *right*.

He spent many months secretly practicing with the sword by candlelight in the stable. When the pictures in the manual were difficult to make out, Gretel read the instructions to him. Soon, he was making strong, thick cuts on the pillars in the stable.

That's how Father caught him.

He had been mad at first, since the damages were expensive to fix. Still, he didn't stop Hans from practicing. Instead, he thought Hans wanted to be a sheriff and apprenticed him.

Hans thought the work was dull. Everyone was such a good citizen there was no crime at all in the streets, unless you counted the drunks. His sword had remained in the sheath.

So he had gone to the local Adventurers Guild with Gretel to see if there was any hero work to be done. And there, off to the side of the billboard, was the torn flier for Spielburg. Gretel couldn't read most of the writing, but she did make out that they wanted a hero. He knew that's where he had to go.

His family, not understanding it, still gave him provisions for the long journey through the mountains. Mother had even made him a new red cloak. With his family's well wishings and tears behind him, he set off for Spielburg.

And got caught in the worst mountain blizzard ever.

For days he was cooped up in a cave, trying to save his rations, then trudging through snow almost chest deep at times, pushing his way onward. Only the thought of becoming a Hero kept him moving.

And finally, finally, he had found the village. 

He grinned as he brushed the now melting snow off him, striking a pose he felt looked dashing. 

"Get ready Spielburg, for your new hero!" he shouted.


	2. Chapter 1

So You Want To Be A Hero

Chapter 1

Wanted: Hero

No Experience Necessary

Visit Beautiful Spielburg

Fight Monsters, Defeat Brigands

Reward and Title "Hero of Spielburg"

To the Successful Applicant

Schultz Meistersson puffed on his pipe as Otto cheerfully played with his yo-yo. Up and down, up and down, the goon never tired of it. Having few brains made life so much easier. He had nothing to worry about,

Schultz frowned. It hurt, not being able to care for your own town. He had been appointed sheriff by the baron himself ten years ago and in that ten years, he hadn't been able to rid the area of Spielburg from bandit activity. In fact, things just kept getting worse. The greatest blow to his pride was that notice the baron had sent out six months ago, almost begging for some stranger to right the wrongs. As Wolfgang had said, "We Speilburgians can't win any more, only stalemate. What with the monsters and the brigands, it'll take a miracle to right everything again. And you and I are too old to be making miracles."

It stung, but Wolfgang was right. They were too set in their ways. Wolfgang could barely wield a sword now, and Schultz himself had his hands full defending the inner town to be worried about outside the gates. That was why he couldn't prevent the bandits from raiding the Shapeirian merchants. He had duties, responsibilities he couldn't shirk.

He shifted position. His leg was throbbing, as though the wound was opening again. Cursing sauruses, he wriggled back into the rocking chair, glancing towards the town gate.

He froze.

Confidently looking at the near-barren town, arms akimbo, was a tall, well-muscled blonde stranger. He had a sword strapped to his back.

Impossible! Schultz thought, his heart feeling lighter for the first time in a long time. After six months of no applicants, finally a stranger had come to town to be their hero!

No, no. Best not to get hopes up. "Welcome, stranger!" he called out, smiling kindly. "You're lucky to have come down the mountain before the snow blocked the pass again."

"Yeah," the lad responded, warming up to the conversation. "It was a pretty close call there. I almost didn't make it." He looked about him. "Is this Spielburg?"

"Didn't you see the sign?"

The lad glanced behind him, then laughed loudly. "I must have missed it!" he declared in an unconvincing voice. "At any rate, I've come to be your hero!"

"We could use one around here," Schultz said slowly, as if reluctant to release the information, "what with the growing population of monsters. The late snows have kept them trapped here in the valley and the brigands are getting bolder. Normally, I would take care of them," he added quickly, "but a Cheetaur mauled my leg a week ago and by healer's orders can't move around much." 

The lad smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry about the monsters, Herr"

"Meistersson. Sheriff Schultz Meistersson."

"Well, Herr Meistersson, don't worry about the monsters. Your new hero, Hans Aidendale" he made a grand flourish with his cape, "will get rid of them for you." Enthusiastically, he whipped out his sword and executed a few moves so precise Schultz knew the lad had learned them from a book.

Pursing his lips, he decided to let the Swordmaster at the castle have a go at him. The lad may have learned from a book, but he learned *well*. That meant some natural talent. And if this lad was to be their hope, he would have to learn how to use the sword properly against an opponent. "North of here lies the Baron's castle. You can learn more about the job, if you're interested."

At the mention of the castle, Hans lit up. "Danke shoern, Herr Meistersson! I'll go right away!"

"Remember to speak to the Swordmaster!" Schultz called after him as he dashed out of the village. Schultz took a few thoughtful puffs on his pipe. Definitely not a bright lad, but eager. If he could learn how to fight, he wouldn't be half-bad.

Ten minutes later, as Schultz stretched and was about to go for a stroll about town, a lovely young woman entered through the gates of Spielburg. Unlike most women, she wore pants. Schultz never realized how good pants looked on women before; or at least the right woman.

The woman took a good look at the town, then at Schultz. She inclined her head a bit, as best suited royalty, then introduced herself. "Bonjour, Monsignor Sheriff. My name is Yvonne."

"Er, Herr Meistersson is fine," he replied. Her accent placed her from the west. "What brings you to Spielburg?"

"I appear to have lost my way. Unfortunately, the avalanche prevented me from backtracking, so I ended up here."

"That's a shame. Where were you going originally?"

She blinked, then, as if it were an afterthought, replied, "Vollenburg."

"You must have gotten pretty lost, Frauilien," Schultz shook his head. "That's up north from here."

"Why is your town so quiet?" she asked abruptly. "No one is about, and it is well past time for a marketplace to be open."

"What with the bandits and monsters, no one really comes to the market anymore. Not even the merchants. Last ones to come had an incident with the bandits that left them broke. A shame, really."

"Bandits?"

"Ever since they got a new leader, things haven't been quite the same around here. They used to be individuals preying on unsuspecting victims, but lately they've gone into organized crime."

"Like the Mafia?"

"The what?"

"Never mind. What is the bandit leader like?"

"No one's been able to get any solid information on him. All we know is that he's the one that organized them together."

She cocked an eyebrow. "I see."

Schultz bristled a bit. "I don't need to concern myself with him since he hasn't directly attacked the town." 

"I didn't intend to offend you, Sheriff. It was just a comment." 

"Well, don't worry about it, Fraulien," Schultz murmured. She sure didn't sound apologetic. "There's been a lot of things on my mind lately."

"At least the town seems to be in order. Quite peaceful in fact."

"Yes, well, we have a lot of good citizens." Schultz half-beamed at the comment. "And Erana's spell helps with that as well." 

Her eyes lit up, the first real emotion to cross her face since Schultz had started talking with her. "I thought I recognized magic around here. What kind of spell is it?"

"I'm afraid I don't know all of the details," Schultz scratched his head. Magic was something that just, well, worked. He never really thought about it much. "Zara could probably tell you more. Her shop's down the corner." 

"Thank you, sheriff." She bowed her head slightly, then left.

Schultz took another puff on his pipe, forgetting about his walk. Now, what could she possibly be doing here? Vollenburg is too far north to just miss. 

The proverbial candle suddenly lit in his head. He frowned, trying to imagine what was a foreign concept to him. Was she planning on trying to become the town hero? 

Schultz prided himself on being a modern thinker. He even went so far as to employ a goon for an assistant, promoting him to sergeant when he showed promise. He even admitted that women could be extremely intelligent. Still, a female hero was an alien concept to him. He felt all the truly intelligent women should go on to become healers or treasurers, staying nice and safe in a house in case a baby was born. They weren't supposed to go out and apply for hero-hood.

"I guess it takes all kinds," he murmured.

"Kinds of what?"

Schultz swiftly turned towards the young man beside Otto who wasn't there ten seconds before. "How'd you get here?" he demanded. There was no way anyone could have gotten through the main gate without him seeing!

The young man gave him a lazy smile, followed by a shrug. "I walked."

Schultz narrowed his eyes, policeman's defenses shouting warnings at him. There was something about this lad he didn't like. He sat higher in his chair, raising himself so he was just higher than the young man. "What brings you to Spielburg," he asked gruffly.

The stranger shrugged. "I lost my way."

"That seems to be happening a lot around here. Where were you headed?"

"Nowhere of interest to you." The lad quirked his lips in a slight sneer.

Schultz bristled. He didn't like the look of this lad, not one bit. "I'm Schultz Meistersson, the sheriff of this town."

"I know," the lad smiled, amusedly. "My name is Alex. Do you usually greet visitors so unkindly?"

Schultz flushed, both out of anger and embarrassment. The lad sure knew how to push his buttons! "It's just with the monsters and bandits, bad news is all we get. You'll forgive me if I'm a bit rough, but strangers aren't common 'round here nowadays."

"Save the merchants."

"How'd you know about that?"

He shrugged. "I've been here a while. That woman was very beautiful, wasn't she?"

Schultz shrugged noncommittally. "You're welcome to take a look around the town if you like. The bar's down that way." He pointed.

Alex smirked slightly. "You're very predictable, you know that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing really," the lad shook his head slightly. "I suppose I should go and head over to the bar you recommend." Handing the yo-yo back to Otto, he walked in the direction Schultz had pointed. Otto blinked, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

"Don't drink the Dragon's breath," Schultz called after him, almost reluctantly.

Alex smiled, nodded, then turned the corner.

"I wonder what he wanted," Schultz frowned. Could be another applicant, he thought reluctantly, though nothing about the lad showed him as heroic. Ordinarily, beggars couldn't be choosers, but with three applicants One could get killed, Schultz thought. And they all may not be up to the challenge, especially against Baba Yaga. 

"Pardon me, sheriff?"

Schultz turned to confront another young man, this one with a large bag slung over one shoulder. "How can I help you?"

The lad grinned, cocking his head to one side. "Don't tell me you've forgotten me already!"

Squinting his eyes in concentration, Schultz stared at the lad more closely. A crop of orange hair, green eyes, large bag he imagined fatter cheeks and a gangly body. "Brandon! Bless me, you've grown fast!"

Brandon grinned at the recognition. "It's been ten years. I haven't grown as fast as all that."

"Where's your father?"

Brandon's cheery mood fell. "He was killed this winter. A snow bear"

"You don't have to tell me," Schultz patted the lad's shoulder reassuringly. He still seemed like a child, even though he was, what, seventeen now? "I'm sorry to hear about it. Your father was a good man. Wolfgang will miss him too."

Curtly nodding, Brandon glanced about the town. "Has the market already closed up for the day?"

"There is no market," Schultz said. "Not with the bandits and all. Scared off not only the sellers, but also all the customers. Strangers aren't common around here anymore."

"Oh." Brandon wistfully glanced at the area where the former marketplace was, noting only one stand. "I'm sorry to hear that." 

"When exactly did you come into town?"

"With that traveler, Alex." Brandon pointed in the direction of the bar. "I went to see Amelia while he walked around the gates. He seems a nice fellow."

"What's his business?"

"He never said. I think he just came to sightsee." Brandon shrugged. "What happened to this town?"

"Just monsters is all. They haven't retreated back to the mountains yet. It's been too cold for them there."

"Oh." Brandon shifted his pack, once again glancing towards the barren marketplace. 

There was something about the lad that bothered Schultz. He looked rather thin, as though he hadn't been eating properly. Schultz put the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind. Poor kid, he thought. He glanced at the sun. It was about time for his morning meeting with the Baron at the castle. Wolfgang will be able to help him out for now. "Wolfgang is still at the Adventurer's hall. I'm sure he'd love to see you, lad."

"I'll go pay him a visit then. It was nice to see you again, Sheriff."

"Come have dinner with me and the missus sometime!" Schultz called after him as he walked away. Brandon nodded. 

Schultz took a long puff on his pipe. Four visitors in one day. Things were going to get interesting around here.


	3. Chapter 2

SO YOU WANT TO BE A HERO

CHAPTER 2

Brandon stepped into the Adventurers Guild to find it mostly how he remembered it. The various placards of slain monsters, the only decoration Wolfgang would allow in his hall, hadn't been changed or moved since the last time he was here. The Dragon's head, Wolfgang's pride and joy, still hung in the place of honor over the fireplace, as fierce looking as ever. The fire was warm, scaring away the winter chill from his bones. The only thing that had changed was Wolfgang. 

Brandon remembered an older man, muscle-bound and brimming with life, who picked him up and carried him half-way round town atop his shoulders each day. He was full of stories, and he would grandly flourish his sword as he spoke, as if reliving the tale every time he told it. Brandon couldn't believe that same man was snoring in a rocking chair, with his precious sword tarnished in his lap. 

Thinking it was rude to rouse him, Brandon paged through the Adventurer's log to see if there were any exciting adventures that had taken place in the time that he was gone. The latest entry had been scribbled down over five years ago, penned by the Baron' s son. As he flipped back further and further, he saw that very few adventurers had even travelled to Spielburg. 

Now that he thought about it, the entire Guild looked as though it hadn't been properly used for a very long time. The furniture had a light coating of dust on it, no empty or half-full plates or beer mugs decorated the table. Even the notice board for new jobs was sparse. 

I knew it, he thought to himself. Something has happened to Spielburg 

Reading the messages on the board confirmed his belief. Only a couple looked new; the rest were stained with a few years' wear. Two notices were rewards for the finding of the Baron's children; two were rewards for the capture of the brigand leader and his warlock. All of them were very nice rewards. With the title of "Hero of Spielburg" as added incentive, adventurers should have been swarming around the place; drinking and laughing and checking out the competition. Something was very very wrong with this old town.

The regular snoring in the background suddenly became staccato, then a sputtering sound as Wolfgang woke up. He blinked blearily a moment, trying to pinpoint his surroundings, then noticed a guest was in the room. "Make yourself at home, lad," he yawned.

"Good morning, Wolfgang," Brandon smiled, sitting on a nearby footstool.

"Eh? How is it that you know my name?" Wolfgang peered closely at his new guest, trying to jog his memory. 

"I was here ten years ago." When that statement didn't trigger anything, Brandon added, "With my father."

"Your father, eh? Well, I've known a more than a few men in my time, and---" Wolfgang bllinked, taking note the bright red hair, and the unusual accent. It came back to him in a flash. "Brandon!" he jerked upright.

"Bull's eye." Brandon grinned. "It's nice to see you again." 

"It's damn good to see you lad!" Wolfgang grinned, picking up his sword and polishing it with vigor. "Where's your father at? I can still best him at armwrestling you know!"

Brandon's smile wavered a bit before he answered, "Father's no longer around."

"Oh." Wolfgang paused in his polishing. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It was a year ago. I'm not so bad now."

"Your father was a good man." Wolfgang nodded. "A very good man, and good at his trade. I remember the time-"

Brandon smiled as Wolfgang reminised an exaggerated tale starring him and his father. Of course he'd heard the story before; he'd even seen it with his own eyes. But it felt good to hear about his father again, and to see some spark of life rekindled in Wolfgang's eyes, even if it was dim. After he had finished, Wolfgang paused for the right amount of time for Brandon to appreciate his story, then asked, "What brings you back to Spielburg, lad?"

"I had hoped to sell some of my wares in the marketplace, but..." 

"You saw it was no use," Wolfgang finished for him when his voice trailed off, then sighed wistfully. "Since you left, Spielburg hasn't been quite the same."

"I noticed the Adventurer's book is rather thin."

"I know," Wolfgang frowned at his sword. "Here we are with a large problem, and no adventurers to help out. We sent out a flier a few years back you know, out to all the neighboring towns and then some."

A few years ago? "No one's come to answer the message?"

Wolfgang shrugged. "Perhaps it's all part of the curse."

"Curse?"

"Have you heard of Baba Yaga, lad?" 

Brandon shook his head. 

"Be glad you haven't. She's a wicked ogress with magical powers. I know for a fact that ogres and magic don't mix; they're too stupid to understand it all. But she's managed to master it, and it's so bad that even the Wizard in Zauberberg can't stop it."

"But, why curse Speilburg?"

"She didn't curse Spielburg. Not exactly. She laid a curse on the Baron instead. Made all of Speilburg rot away until there was nothing left. The only visitors to even have come here have been a few unlucky traders from Shapeir, and you." He fell silent, staring almost mournfully at his sword.

Brandon eyed Wolfgang curiously. It was not like him to *not* tell a story, especially one that had the destruction of a town in it. "What happened, Wolfgang? Or do you not know?"

"Oh, I know lad," Wolfgang gave him an unreadable look. "But are you willing to do something about it?"

Brandon looked away, unable to meet Wolfgang's eyes. He was no warrior; what could he do against an ogress witch? He decided to change the subject. "So, no one's been to Spielburg?"

"You're the first one to come since that merchant, and he got all his stuff taken by the bandits. He's a fine man, but low on guts."

"Merchant," Brandon echoed, glancing at his bag leaning against the wall. He was dangerously low on money, and the road out of Spielburg had been reblocked by a fresh avalanche. He had hoped to sell his wares in the marketplace, but now....

Wolfgang followed his gaze, then began to speak in a more cheerful voice. "Lad, I've got a proposal for you. I'm getting old, and a bit lazy I'll admit, since no one's come to visit for a long time. This old place needs a bit of sprucing up, and I'll need a new map of Speilburg. I haven't made one in seven years. What do you say? I can't pay much, mind you, but I can give you a little."

"Wolfgang, I'd help you even if you didn't pay me," Brandon smiled.

"I know." 

Brandon's heart sank, and he flushed with embarrassment. Wolfgang was giving him a way out. Swallowing, he choked, "When do I start?"

***

"So this is Spielburg," Alex mused, strolling in the town proper. It was not a pretty sight. The buildings looked abandoned, cobwebs decorating the windows and doors. Those houses that seemed to have occupants had large padlocks bolting the doors. They would be good lock-picking practice, but Alex feared the reward wouldn't be worth the effort involved. Not one store was open, even though the sun was high. Only the dry goods store and a small fruit stand gallantly tried to do business. 

"No one to steal from, and nothing to steal. What rotten luck," he muttered to himself. In a town as destitute as this, there was little hope of there being a Theives' Guild. They had all probably left before the snow fell for better prospects.

The trip had been a rotten turn of luck from the very beginning; first he had lost his map, then the path to Ubervold, his original destination, had been blocked by avalanches. Only by some turn of chance had he remembered the aging flier he had seen for Spielburg and, though he had been lost more times than he cared to remember, he finally found the town. And then, the minute he started towards it, the mountain shook and a large tsunami of snow was tumbling before him. The only good luck that came to him was meeting that young trader, who managed to get them both down safely. But now he couldn't leave. He decided to go to the Tavern that the Sheriff had suggested. At the very least some wine would warm him.

The Tavern loomed over a side street of closed businesses, a dark alleyway seperating it from the more respectable shops. Inside the alley, a beggar stubbornly attempted to ply his trade. Every so often, he would cry out, "Alms! Alms for the poor!" half-heartedly to the empty air. Alex walked over to him feeling a twinge of sympathy. "Buisness isn't going so well, is it?"

The beggar tilted his head warily, holding out his bowl. "Alms for the poor, Mister. Be a good sort. It pays to do some good." A glint in the beggar's eyes told Alex that there was information to be gotten. 

He fished around in his pocket and tossed a small silver into the beggar's bowl. "Tell me, how does the begging buisness fare in this town?"

"Not very well, what with the only folks left being as poor as I." The beggar bit on the silver to assure himself of it genuinity, then pocketed it somewhere in his robes. "One has to be careful of thieves as well."

Theives? Perhaps there still was an active guild around here. "Theives tend to gather in groups."

The beggar held out his bowl and grinned maddeningly. If Alex wanted more information, he was going to have to pay for it. He plunked another small silver into the bowl. "As you were saying...?" he prompted.

"They've got a guild somewheres round here," the beggar whispered softly before making the second silver disappear the same as the first. "Thieves aren't very scrupulous, you know," he added loudly. "They'd steal from a poor beggar same as they'd steal from a fat merchant."

"It sounds as if the Sherrif isn't doing a good job at keeping them at bay."

The beggar shrugged unconcernedly. "Meistersson's better than most I imagine. He probably relies on the magic spell to keep the town protected."

"Magic spell?"

"They say a mage called Erana used to live here, and that she cast a protection spell over the town. No one within its borders can get hurt."

That explained the lack of guards about the town. Alex doubted the spell extended to theivery. After all, no one usually got hurt. Physically. "So, danger doesn't include the thieves?"

"Who knows? Personally, I think she missed a few places." He glanced nervously into the dark shadows of the alleyway he sheltered in. "Just be careful out at night. And now, if you don't mind, I've got to get back to work." The beggar shook his now empty bowl, and pointedly ignored Alex.

So there was still an active Thieves' Guild in Speilburg! Alex grinned inwardly. If there were still thieves around, that meant that there was still some profit to be squeezed out of the meager town after all. The only problem was trying to find the Guild in the first place. It wasn't going to be out in the open where the Sheriff could spot it. He pondered this as he entered the tavern.

The entire town population, or what seemed to be left of it, had gathered in the tavern, drinking their sorrows away. One man slumped on the bar, hand still gripping his mug as he snored. Only a large goon, a meaner version of the Sherrif's helper, was sober, glaring at no one in particular from his corner of the room. Alex sat down at the cleanest stool at the bar, trying to keep his clothes away from the small puddles of liquor that dripped from the counter. "Yeh wan' sumthin?" The bartender growled at him, polishing a glass with an almost clean rag.

"What's the specials?" Alex asked, not truly sure he wanted to know.

"Ale, Goblin's Sweat, and," the bartender paused, smirking at the barrel behind him, "Dragon's Breath."

The barrel had a large dragon's head for a spout, and the nostrils were still smoking. Remembering the Sheriff's warning, and not wanting to drink anything that sounded like sweat, he ordered an ale. When the bartender turned his back, Alex spotted a small piece of paper wadded into a ball on the counter. Curiousity piqued, Alex swiped it and pocketed it for further study when he was alone. 

Ale in hand, Alex decided to look for another, cleaner place to sit to drink. The tables near the goon were empty, so he sat at one of them. At least it was clean, though he had to tolerate the goon's piercing glare for company. Alex sipped his ale (which was low quality and tasted watered down), wondering why a goon was in the tavern and not drinking. He appeared to be guarding something.

Closer inspection revealed that his large body was covering some sort of trap door in the floor. Alex almost laughed; that sheriff must not be very competent if the Thieves' Guild doesn't even have to conceal themselves well. Noting no one else was giving him the slightest attention, he walked over to the goon, who gave him a mighty glare. "What chu want?" he growled, flexing his large muscles.

"Easy, friend," Alex held up his hands. "I mean you no harm."

"Me no your friend. An' I do you harm if you no go!"

This was obviously not a creature of intelligence. "I'm a member of the Theives' Guild."

"Oh yeah? Den what's da password?"

"Password?" This was a slight damper to his plan. But, there was no situation that bribing couldn't take care of. He took out a handful of silver, careful to make sure no one else saw his money. "I don't think I need to know the password."

"No password, no in!" The goon gave Alex a good shove, nearly causing him to spill his silver. "Dem's da rooles!"

"I see. You wouldn't happen to know the password, would you?"

This was met with a blank glare. Alex switched tactics. "Do you know the password?"

"Yeah. 'Course I do."

"What is it?"

The goon leered at him. "I too smart fer dat trick. You got any more ideas?"

As stubborn as he was stupid. But, if he could get the goon to just move off the trapdoor, he could slip inside, and the Guild would have no choice but to admit him. "Your employer trained his pet well."

The goon's red eyes blazed. He grabbed Alex's collar, bringing them face to face. "You insultin' me?"

"I thought you were intelligent enough to tell."

"Dat's it!" In a matter of seconds Alex found himself sprawled in the dust, face first, outside the Tavern. "An' don't cum back 'til you learn manners!" The door slammed shut.

Stinging with more than just bruises, Alex tried to bring himself to a standing position gracefully. He brushed the dirt off his face and clothes, ignoring the muffled chuckles of the beggar in the alleyway. 

"Well. That went very badly. I'm going to have to find actual theives and learn the password," he thought bitterly. "The only question is, how am I going to do that?"

He turned quickly on his heel before he could see the beggar's smirk.

*****

The streets of Speilburg are decidedly too quiet, Yvonne thought as she strolled to the magic shop. Aside from the sheriff and his goon, the only other person to be seen in Speilburg was an old woman sleeping in a creaking rocking chair. Even for a town, there were too few inhabitants. The town truly needed a hero, just as the advertisement had said.

She didn't know why she had even looked at that crumbling piece of parchment in the local guild. Or why she had allowed herself to follow it. Even though the mention of both reward and title had piqued her interest, there were other places she could have gone. Places with more access to magic than this forsaken little town. 

It is no use regretting the past, she chided herself You are here, so you will use this town to become a true wizard. All the books she had read had told her that Speilburg was a town with a strong magic aura, as the famous wizard Erasmus had a summer home there. She wondered why she wasn't able to feel it, but didn't let it bother her. 

She could tell which store was the magic shop at first glance; it was the only shop that was looking back at her. A large eyeball, capped with a dunce hat, overlooked the tiny shop nestled inbetween what looked like an abandoned candleshop and the Hero's Tale Inn. She wondered if such a small magic shop would even have spells to buy, then pushed the door open. 

Compared with the bright light of the afternoon sun, the shop was dark. It smelled of incense, though there was none burning that she could see. A few candles brightened the interior a little, but most of the light came from a large "window" of sky near the back of a shop. Yvonne recognized it as the workings of magic, for a large pentagram symbol was engraved in the stone before it. A black life-like stone gargoyle rested on a perch beside the window, staring at her. 

The wares for sale were crowded on large rickety shelves leaning against the walls. Books were stuffed between containers of dubious liquids and spell ingredients, and a few skulls (rubber upon investigation) overlooked the store. It created an atmosphere that would have been quite frightening to one who was not initiated in the magical realm. Perhaps that was why the shop was so empty.

The books on the shelves looked old and dusty, but perhaps they would have some information about spells. As Yvonne reached for one, a crackle of thunder boomed in the shop, while lightning flashed. Standing on the pentagram symbol at the back of the shop was a woman, auburn hair flaring dramatically. "Did you wish to purchase anything?" she intoned, hands on her hips.

Surprised as she was, Yvonne forced herself to excude a calm air, lifting her nose slightly. "I am looking for a tome of spells."

"Tome?" the woman sniffed. "Spells do not come in tomes, they come on pieces of parchment. Ordinary paper cannont hold spells; it would tear and burn like flames. Any apprentice knows that."

Yvonne felt herself redden, then glowered at the shopkeeper. "Then where do you keep your merchandise, shopkeeper?"

"If you must refer to me as something, use my name," the shopkeeper sniffed. "My name is Zara. And I do not sell spells to ones who cannot do magic."

Yvonne glared at her. "What makes you believe I *can't* do magic?"

"Have you any spells in your repertoire?"

Blushing furiously, Yvonne knew it was pointless to lie. The shopkeeper would ask to see a demonstration. "Not yet," she grudged.

"Then, here," Zara snapped her fingers. A scroll flashed into existence before Yvonne. "Take it, and read it."

Yvonne unrolled it, and read, "'Leyden's Latent Lectrical Discharge.'"

"Or, 'zap,' as it is commonly known. Now, read the spell."

The words on the scroll were difficult to make out; they shifted in and out of focus as well as merging with each other. Every time she felt she caught a glimpse of something she recognized, it would again go out of focus. She swallowed, sweat beading on her brow. It didn't seem like it would be this difficult from the tomes she had previously read. She could feel the shopkeeper's eyes on her, watching her, waiting for her to admit failure. Yvonne clenched her teeth in determination. She had come so far, she wasn't going to be beaten by mere words!

As she swiveled her eyes back and forth across the page, trying to glimpse more than one part of a word here, one part there, something clicked in the back of her mind. It was a part of a sorcerer's manual she had read somewhere. /Don't read the words. Read the spell./ 

Read the spell. 

Yvonne closed her eyes a moment in readiness, then focused on the parchment behind the swirling words. Suddenly, the words stopped their shifting and glowed brightly before engraving their presense in her mind. She blinked a moment, uncomprehending while her fingers tingled, then grinned. She had done it! She had learned a spell! Triumphant, she smirked and lifted her head, ready to prove to the shopkeeper that she *could* do magic.

The smirk on her face quickly faded as she saw that Zara was smiling at her. Could it be that the shopkeeper had *wanted* her to be able to read it?

"Now you know 'zap'," Zara told her. "The rest, you will have to pay for."

Yvonne smiled slightly, then asked, "What else do you have?"

* *

Hans whistled as he marched down the pathway that lead to the Baron's castle. Finally! He was going to become a true hero! Bandits and monsters were the stuff legendary heroes were made of. He knew he needed a bit of polishing with his blade, but after that, he would kill all the bandits and monsters bothering the good people of Spielburg and he would be a true hero.

Of course there weren't that many good people of Spielburg, but one couldn't be picky in the heroing buisness. 

The Baron's castle was a squat rectangular shape of stone surrounded by a tall wall of stone. There were a few watchtowers built into the wall, but only one lone guard dutifully paced the spaces between them. Hans called out to him, after checking his heroic pose. "Ho, good guard!"

The guard paused in his pacing, and looked down at him. "Yes? Is there anything you want?" He sounded annoyed.

"I'm here to see the Baron." Hans smiled dazzingly.

The guard was not impressed. "The Baron sees no one at this time. But, Heinz, the stablemaster, is looking for a young lad to clean the stables. It's honest work, and is a good way to build up muscle." The guard demonstrated by flexing his own.

"Cleaning stables?" Hans frowned. "But that's not the work of heroes!"

"So you've come about the hero job, eh? Be the first one then." The guard leaned over the turret, studying Hans. "All right, you can come in. But I doubt the Baron will see you."

The guard disappeared into one of the watchtowers and soon the gate was raised. Hans strode through it.

The castle was very impressive, although not exactly what Hans had envisioned. The stories his sister had told to him had castles that were towering turrets of stone guarded by a large moat filled with man-eating monsters. This castle was very squat, with a cobbled courtyard, a stable, and few guards actually doing their duty. Hans approached the two guards at the front door of the castle. "I'm here to see the Baron!" he announced, striking another heroic pose.

"The Baron sees no one," was the curt reply. 

"But I'm here to be your new hero!"

The guards had a chuckle at this. "Sure you are, kid."

"I am!" Hans drew his sword. 

"That's not a toy," one guard snapped, lowering his spear. 

"I know that!" Hans rolled his eyes. 

"Then don't draw it unless you intend to use it!"

Hans sheathed his sword. "I really am a good swordsman."

The guards exchanged an amused glance at this. Finally, one said, "When you can beat the Swordsmaster, we'll believe it."

"Swordmaster?" Hans remembered that the Sheriff of Spielburg had recommended that he see the Swordmaster in Speilburg castle. It would be a good time to prove his swordsmanship skills, and make these two guards eat their words. "Where is he?" 

The guards pointed to a showy old gentleman feinting at an invisible foe in the courtyard. "Show the arrogant ass up, and we just might let you see the Baron."

Grinning, Hans strode over to the Swordmaster. "Hi!"

The Swordmaster glared at him as if he were a small bug. "Do you know with *whom* you are speaking to?"

"You're the Swordmaster of Speilburg, right?" 

The Swordmaster inclined his head, seemingly impressed. "For an ignorant peasant, you seem to know a few things. What do you want?"

"I'm Hans." He drew his sword. "Prepare for battle!"

The Swordmaster laughed. "You call that a battle stance? I've seen bears do better!"

Blushing, Hans checked his feet, wondering if he had done everything correctly. He had practiced several times in front of the mirror, but he had never quite perfected the stance. Still, this was no time to show hesitation. "Maybe it's not perfect, but I can still fight!"

"Oh?" The Swordmaster readied himself. "Then let me see your battle tactics. En garde!"

Before Hans had time to think about which move to make his sword was out of his hand and twinkling on the cobblestones at his feet. The Swordmaster resumed his arrogant pose, twirling his long mustache between his fingers smugly. "Perhaps you ought to study more through experience than through books."

Completely red, Hans bent over to retrieve his sword, trying to ignore the laughs echoing throughout the courtyard. It was bad enough having the Swordmaster chuckling at him, but all the guards were having a laugh at his expense as well. Angrily, he pointed the sword back at the Swordmaster again. "I wasn't ready that time!"

"Then you will never be ready," the Swordmaster sneered. "A battle is quick and fierce. Your opponent will not wait for you to ready yourself and wave your sword about his face before he kills you!"

"Fight me again!" Hans switched to a different stance, already calculating his move.

"I do not waste my time in useless battles." The Swordmaster turned on his heel. 

"I said, fight me again!" Hans launched himself at the arrogant snot. He'd teach him who was useless!

Again his sword clattered on the cobblestones. Hans swallowed against the blade that touched his throat. "You were ready that time, were you not?" the Swordmaster asked.

Hans scowled, wanting to wipe that sneer off the Swordmaster's face. 

"So I thought." The Swordmaster sheathed his blade and walked away.

Hans looked at his precious sword, now lying useless on the cobblestone ground. He had practiced so hard! Now he was being laughed at by not only the Swordsmaster, but the guards in the compound. He had never felt so humiliated in his life. Maybe he should have stayed home.

He bent down and picked up his sword, letting the noon light glint off it's shiny surface. He had sworn that it would be the sword of a great hero. No, he was not going to give up. Not after he had come so far. Heroes had to make sacrifices. This was going to be his first one.

"Wait!" he called after the Swordmaster.

The Swordmaster turned around, brows raised. "Do you truly want to repeat the spectacle again?"

"You're a Swordmaster, aren't you?"

"I would have thought that was obvious."

This was it. "Can- can you train me?"

The Swordmaster cocked his head, as if considering. Please please please, Hans prayed. Finally, the Swordmaster said, "I do not come cheap. It will cost you one gold coin to train with me."

"Done!" Hans handed him one of his few coins.

The Swordmaster pocketed it, then readied himself. "First, we will work on your stance. Widen your feet... just so..."

The hours ticked away, with Hans unlearning and relearning what the book had taught him. It was so difficult; his brain understood what the Swordmaster wanted him to do, but it seemed to take ages until his body would even begin to respond. The afternoon wore on until finally Hans lay on the cobblestone ground, exhausted. "I... can't..." he panted.

"Then, we shall stop for today." Hans glared at the Swordmaster, who looked as though he hadn't even broken a sweat. It was very unfair.

The Swordmaster sheathed his sword, then stared at the bunker for a very long time. In a soft voice, for once without condensation, he asked, "Tomorrow, same time?"

Hans scrabbled to a sitting position, eyes wide with hope. "You 'll train me tomorrow too?"

"But of course. As ignorant as you are, you have some talent. " A smile crossed his face for an instant, so short that Hans later thought he had imagined it. Then, the haughty expression returned, and he looked down his nose at Hans. "We'll see if you can actually do any better than today." With that, he headed towards the barracks, still feinting against an invisible opponent.

Hans fell back onto his back. More lessons meant more money, and he didn't have that much to spare. Well, there was that job at the stables; that could keep him in some money for a while. And it would give him some excercise to build up his muscles. He would have to head over there.

As soon as he could get up and actually move. 


	4. Chapter 3

SO YOU WANT TO BE A HERO

Chapter 3

The Hero's Tale Inn was a small building beside Schultz' office. Although it lacked decoration, there was a kind of inviting warmth to the place. Brandon tried to remember what had been originally there, then gave up. 

The blankets he held began to slide from his arms, and he propped them against the door to better balance them. Wolfgang had felt inspired to do some "spring-cleaning," and decided to give all the bed supplies he no longer had a use for to the proprietor of the Inn. Brandon had volunteered to deliver them, but he hadn't expected there to be so many. He managed to get them all on one arm long enough to open the door to the Inn and walk inside.

The interior was brightly lit by a large fireplace and the smell of exotic spices lingered in the air. Despite the waning sunlight, the main room appeared empty. The tables were unoccupied and no pot was boiling over the fire. "Hello?" Brandon called out, struggling to keep the blankets from spilling out of his arms onto the floor. 

A cat-like creature emerged from the room at the back and quickly bounded over to him. "Welcome, welcome, a thousand times welcome!" he greeted Brandon, swiftly relieving him of a few of the blankets. " To what do we owe to this honor?"

"Wolfgang thought you might need a few spare blankets," Brandon explained. "He said he doesn't use them much any more."

The creature smiled. "Such generosity is rare in times such as these. Come, let us put these away."

Brandon followed the creature to a storage room, and the blankets were swiftly folded and neatly stacked on a shelf. When they had finished, the creature turned towards him. "Now we can properly introduce ourselves. I am Shameen, proprietor of this little inn."

"Brandon," Brandon held out his hand. "I'm working for Wolfgang for a while."

"A visitor?" Shameen took the proffered hand and shook it warmly.

"Of sorts."

"Even sorts such as yourself are rare to see these days." Shameen led him back into the cozy drawing room and pulled up a chair by the fire for Brandon. He himself sat on a colorful cushion placed in just the right spot to get the most heat from the fire. 

"You're from Shapeir, right?" Brandon settled down in the chair.

Shameen smiled. "How did you guess?"

"I didn't. Wolfgang told me. Shapeir is very far from here, isn't it?"

"Quite far, in a land of never-ending sunlight and golden sands. We came on a caravan last year with our friend Abdulla Doo hoping to do some business in the marketplace." Shameen stared mournfully into the fire. "Instead we were attacked by bandits who stole our treasure and stranded us here in this cold, foreign land." There was silence between them a few moments, before Shameen shook himself out of his misery. "But you did not come here to learn of a Katta's troubles. Are you hungry?" Shameen clapped his hands and from the back room came a beautiful cat-woman dressed in fine silks. "This is my lifemate, Shema," Shameen stood and introduced her. "The best cook in all the lands."

"My lifemate flatters me too much," Shema said, smiling warmly at Brandon. "I am not the best."

"One of the best, then."

Shema gave Brandon the look of exasperation used when one is pleased with the compliment but doesn't want it to show. "The food of this land is much different from my own, but I have managed to make an adequate stew."

Brandon's stomach suddenly came to life at the prospect of food. "I would love too, but I'm afraid I can't. I've no money."

"Then think of it as payment for the sheets you brought us." Shameen said. 

"Those were really Wolfgang's idea. I couldn't..."

"I will make both of you portions," Shema told him, gently ushering him to a seat at the table. "You can take him a meal as well."

"But..." Brandon watched helplessly as Shema darted through the back door before he could voice another protest. 

"When my lifemate makes up her mind, it is best not to argue," Shameen said, sagely. 

Brandon resigned himself to his fate, looking on the bright side. At least he wouldn't have to try and digest the dried Adventurer's rations Wolfgang had in store. 

The front door swung open, letting in a draft of cold winter air, and a dark-haired young man walked in. Brandon grinned in recognition. "Alex!" 

Alex looked his way, replacing the sour expression on his face with a smile. "Well, if it isn't the young trader. I'd ask how you were faring except I think I already know." He turned to Shameen, who was on his feet and preparing another place at the table. "How much for a room?"

"Six silvers a night, and that includes a dinner provided by my lovely lifemate."

"I'll take one." Alex handed him the money and settled down in the place set for him. "I take it you're staying the night as well."

"No," Brandon shook his head. "I'm staying with Wolfgang at the Adventurer's hall. Shema is making our supper."

"Adventurer's Hall? What's that?"

"It's where adventurers hang out, drink beer, trade tales, and learn new things."

"Great! Any new heroes?" There was a note of sarcasm in the sentence.

"I'm afraid not."

"Pity. This town could use one."

"That's exactly what Wolfgang said." 

"It is truth," Shameen said, as Shema appeared with a large basket in her hands. "Unless the bandits are stopped, this poor town has no hope of getting any better."

"Now, now, no more glum talk," Shema interrupted. "Talking about the problems is not going to solve them, and will only ruin the banquet." She handed Brandon the basket. "Please tell Wolfgang we appreciate his kind gift."

"I will. Thank you very much," Brandon managed a bow before taking the basket from her. Turning to Alex, he said, "I never did ask how you fared..."

"Don't." Alex gave him a wry smile. "It's at least as bad as you. Take care of yourself, kid."

"You too." Brandon nodded farewell to Shameen and headed for the door. 

When he opened it, he was startled to find a beautiful woman, poised in the middle of reaching for the handle. He held the door open for her, and when she passed by him she gave him a small smile of gratitude. Then, nodding good-bye to the Innkeeper, he left, softly closing the door behind him.

Alex watched as the woman asked for room and food and was seated opposite him. She was dressed in unusual clothing for Spielburg, and her hairband was fixed with a bronze medallion. She certainly wasn't a poor country girl, so, he reasoned, she was another visitor, like himself. And, she was exquisitely beautiful. He gave her a winning smile, turning so the light of the fire would hit his best features. "Good evening," he purred.

Her response was take a book out of her pack and begin reading.

/So much for being friendly./ "You know, it is customary to introduce yourself to your eating companion."

She slowly raised her eyes from her book, studying him for a moment before answering. "My name is Yvonne."

"And I am Alex." He grinned slyly at her. "Yvonne. That is a fitting name for such a beautiful woman." 

This flattery was ignored, as Yvonne turned back to her book. 

"Sounds like I am in for a quiet evening," Alex murmured.

It wasn't meant to be as, a few moments before the Innkeeper's lifemate came with bowls of stew, another man joined them. He was robust, dressed in fine silks, and had so much personality that even Yvonne couldn't ignore him. He ate and spoke with vigor, gesturing to emphasize his points. His name was Abdulla Doo, son of Ali, grandson of Hason.

"You say you are a merchant?" Alex asked, after they had all introduced themselves.

"Yes! Or rather, I was." Abdulla deflated visibly. "Until those brigands stole all I had. Ten thousand curses upon them! May they eat their own blood!" He stared mournfully into his coffee. "Now, I am but a poor beggar living off of the kindness of my friends." He gestured towards Shameen and Shema.

Alex glanced at the large jewel nestled in the folds of the man's turban. If this man was in poverty, he was a blue-and-purple striped saurus. "What was that about brigands?"

"They numbered in the thousands!" Abdulla gestured wildly.

"It was more like a dozen," Shameen interrupted quietly from his corner. "Not including their leader, the beast, and the wizard."

"Wizard?" Yvonne repeated, nearly dropping her spoon in her bowl of soup. "What wizard?"

"A horrible man, who constantly giggled at my expense!" Abdulla picked up the tale again. "He used some magic spell to make us sneeze horribly! It overwhelmed my guards and they were able to strip my wagon bare of everything, including my magic carpet!"

"A magic carpet?" 

"Yes. It is a common method of transport in Shapeir, my home, and the homeland of civilization."

"Mostly among the upper classes," Shameen added. "Shema and I have seen only one in our lives, and that one belonged to Abdulla."

"So what happened to your guards?" Alex asked. "Were they all killed, or did they leave you to join the brigands?"

Abdulla frowned at him. "None would be so dishonorable as to abandon me and their contracts! Instead they fill themselves with drink at the tavern, pining that they didn't help me more than they did."

"They were frightened of the beast," Shameen explained. "Thus, they weren't able to prevent the wizard from casting his sneezing spell."

"What kind of beast?" Yvonne asked. 

"It was a man-creature with the head of a bull. A very imposing figure, it stood as high as my doorframe, and was built like a wall."

"You must mean a Minotaur," Yvonne said. "They are very powerful creatures, but are also very stupid."

"You certainly know your creatures of lore," Alex complemented her, again giving her a charming smile.

A blush stained her cheeks as she glowered at him stonily. "Do not play games with me. I know your type all too well."

"Really?" Alex leaned towards her. "Tell me all about 'my' type. Maybe I'll learn something about myself."

"I believe I am ready for bed," Yvonne stood abruptly, pointedly ignoring Alex. "Where is my room?"

"Of course," Shameen was instantly on his feet in. "Allow me to escort you." 

As they ascended the stairs, Alex called out to her, "What, no parting 'goodnight'?"

Yvonne turned towards them, pointedly looking only at Abdulla. "Good night, merchant. I wish you well in the recovery of your treasure."

"May Allah grant you many sweet dreams," Abdulla answered as she disappeared. He grinned knowingly at Alex. "She is beautiful enough to belong in the Sultan's harem. But I would not want to cross such an icy temperament as hers."

"You know what they say," Alex gulped down the rest of his stew and followed her. "The game is almost as fun as the prize. Good luck, merchant!" He waved, taking the stairs two at a time.

He found Shameen closing the door of what he assumed to be Yvonne's room. "Your lifemate's stew is excellent, but I am afraid it has made me quite sleepy."

"She will be pleased to hear such words," Shameen smiled at the complement. "Your room is here," he showed Alex into a small, but comfortable room next to Yvonne. "If you are in need of anything do not hesitate to ask."

"Can I reserve for more than one night?"

"Yes, if you like. I can reduce the price."

"No need." Alex gave him enough for four days. That would give him enough time to scout out the area, find the Thieves' Guild, and provided him with a place to store things he did not want to keep on his person. Not to mention sleeping on the streets of Spielburg was not a thought he wanted to entertain. 

Shameen left with a bow.

The bed was like the room; small but comfortable and nearly covered in furs. There was a mirror on the wall, a bathtub with a pipe extending outward, and a closet, but no trunk to hide things in. A lone window, with a sill big enough to sit on comfortably, overlooked the alleyway in the back, which led to the back streets of Spielburg and the tavern. Alex opened the window with ease, and took a look at the back of the inn. A drainpipe from the roof led down to the street, and a yellow rectangle on the street showed the door of the kitchen. Alex grinned. This was proving to be an ideal spot. 

He closed the window and turned the knob of the pipe to have a quick bath before bed. Surprisingly, warm water flowed into the small tub. He wondered how the merchants were able to warm their water, reminding himself to ask later. As he stripped, he remembered the wrinkled piece of paper he had found in the tavern. Straightening it out, he turned towards the candlelight to read. The writing was barely legible, but he could just make it out: "B- He's getting suspicious. Hold off on our meetings for a bit, but I'll keep you posted by these notes. -B."

"'B' and 'B' huh?" Alex murmured, burning the note. "I wonder what they're up to."

He had a quick bath, then snuggled under the furs, deciding to give up on Yvonne for the day. There was always tomorrow. 


	5. Chapter 4

SO YOU WANT TO BE A HERO

Chapter 4

Hans opened his eyes a crack as the morning sunlight hit his face. He had been in the middle of a not-so heroic dream where the monster he was fighting was chewing affectionately on his hair. Come to think of it, something *was* chewing on his hair. Hans shifted his head to get a whiff of horse breath. "Ugh!" he groaned, pushing the persistent pony away from his head and settling deeper into the hay. His muscles still ached from yesterday's ordeal with both the Swordmaster and stablemaster, and he wanted nothing better than a good sleep in.

Unfortunately, the stablemaster had other ideas.

"What the hell do you take this for? I'm not running a hotel! Wake up!"

A rake was shoved into his hands, and before Hans had rubbed all the sleep from his eyes, he was again raking the stable clean. It certainly was a good workout, though decidedly unheroic. The work didn't take as long as yesterday, and the stablemaster was nice enough to give him a good breakfast of biscuits and fruit as well as his payment. Hans thanked him, then went to spend those silvers on another lesson from the Swordmaster, who was waiting for him in the courtyard.

"Here, young would-be hero," the Swordmaster threw him a shield, somewhat battered. "You learn to use this today."

They practiced and practiced until the sun was high in the sky, and Hans collapsed on the ground. "You are improving," the Swordmaster sniffed, standing over him.

"Thanks," Hans grinned, handing him back the shield.

"You can keep it. I've no use for something as old and battered as that thing. And don't smile," he snapped. "I may have said you are improving, but compared to nothing, anything is an improvement." He gave Hans a once-over with his eyes. "You have leather armor. I didn't recognize it underneath that peasant garbage."

"My mother made this for me," Hans gritted his teeth, new energy surging through his body. Insult him all he liked, Hans wasn't about to let the Swordmaster get away with insulting his mother! He rose to his feet, hand gripping his sword. 

The Swordmaster quirked an eyebrow. "What have I told you about attacking in anger? My, how quickly we forget."

"Don't insult my mother!" Hans growled.

"Fine, fine, I apologize for the remark. Your clothes are very.... nice."

Satisfied, Hans sheathed his sword.

"As I was about to say, it is good that you have a suit of armor, but it's very shabby."

"The local sheriff gave it to me. It was the only one that fit."

"You will need better armor. You are a large target, and your dodging skills are as non-existent as your sword-skills. If you are going to take damage, you'd be better off with stronger stuff."

"But I don't have any money!" Hans protested. All he had with him was going into the daily lessons the Swordmaster was giving him. And the stable work wasn't paying enough to help him keep up with that. How was he supposed to afford something as expensive as armor?

"You are a warrior, are you not, young would-be hero?" the Swordmaster scoffed. "The monsters that populate these woods have a lot of gold, since they are fond of shiny objects. Take care of a few, and you'll have enough to buy something decent." With those words, the Swordmaster left him.

Hans thought about that. Heroes killed monsters, that was their job. If he was going to be a hero, he was going to have to start doing his job. So, what was he waiting for? 

"Look out, monsters!" he cried. "Your rule of terror is going to end by the hand of," he pulled his sword out for a pose, " Hans Aidendale!"

That said, he set out into the Spielburg forest, ignoring the barely-concealed laughter of the guards.

******

The woods surrounding Spielburg were quite pleasant, despite the fact that bandits were rumored to lurk in every shadow. The smell of conifers surrounded Yvonne as she picked her way through muddy paths and clumps of melting snow. She had bought all the spells Zara had to sell, which had turned out to be a meager three altogether. Still, among those three was "Flame Dart," a spell that would cause flame damage to a target. She had spent all day yesterday practicing that spell on an abandoned target range just outside the village. Although it was only one spell, it was at least a comfort to know she wouldn't be trekking through the forest completely unprepared should something attack her. The Arch-mage Erasmus' summer home, Zauberberg mountain, was an hour's walk north of the village.

In her extensive reading, Yvonne had learned everything she could about the elusive Erasmus. Friend of kings, and an Arch-mage that knew every known spell in existence, he was both respected and scoffed at in the magical circle. He had written only one book, the very first book on magic Yvonne had read. She had memorized every word, and it had become the standard by which she judged all other books. Now, she had a chance to actually meet the man she had read much about. Although she hated to admit it to herself, she was a bit nervous at meeting him. He was a Great Wizard after all. "Still," she reassured herself, "he won't simply dismiss me because I am a woman." 

Yet, as she stood at the foot of Zauberberg mountain, a sense of dread settled in her stomach. Could it be that the books about him were wrong? Could it be that he was just like all her tutors, or even worse?

She shoved away all the doubts crowding around her. Zara had spoken highly of him, it must be all right. Although Zara did warn her he had an odd sense of humor. With the same determination that she clung to when she left home, she stepped onto the winding path leading to the top of the mountain. A sign popped out of the ground before her, reading, "Welcome to Zauberberg." Another step yielded another sign, "Now, go home!" 

Yvonne rolled her eyes. What kind of deterrent system was that? She hoped there wouldn't be any more signs along the way.

Although the winding path was not treacherous, it was rough going, and it took Yvonne a good two hours to reach the pinnacle. At the top of the mountain squatted a large, purple structure that resembled a delicate glass bottle from the Orient. Crouching over a large door gleaming with jewels was a hideous gargoyle, with a leering grin on its face. Its tongue hung down with a sign beside it reading, "Pull me." "An odd sense of humor indeed," Yvonne murmured, tugging on the lolling tongue. It rolled back up into the gargoyle's mouth with a flapping sound.

She waited a while, and when nothing happened, she raised her hand to knock on the door. 

"STAND FAST!" 

Startled, Yvonne took a step back. The gargoyle above the door had come to life, and was studying her intently. "She who would the wizard see must first answer questions three," it growled. "First, what is your name?"

"Yvonne," she replied.

"What is your quest?"

"I wish to be a wizard."

"What is the mean air speed of an unleaden swallow?"

Yvonne paused, calculating. A swallow weighed 2.8 ounces, so without factoring in wind speed...

"Well?"

"Just a moment!" she snapped, then instantly regretted it. 

"Sorry," the gargoyle cackled. "Wrong answer!" 

Before Yvonne could say another word she was surrounded by a flash of light and deposited back on the beginning of the path. This was becoming an annoyance. She wondered if she really wanted to talk with the wizard Erasmus after all. "At least I know he's here," she muttered walking determinedly past the warning signs to climb the mountain again.

For the second time she arrived at the wizard's door, tired, dusty, and hungry. The gargoyle yawned to life and again asked her the questions. "What is your name?"

"Yvonne." 

"What is your quest?"

"To become a wizard."

"What is your favorite color?"

"Purple."

The gargoyle cocked its head at her. "Are you sure?"

"Isn't that four questions?" Yvonne snapped.

"Just checking," it chuckled. "You may enter freely. Go up the stairs... don't dally!" The door creaked open, and Yvonne entered.

The drawing room was full of junk piled into every available space, leaving room only for a large winding staircase leading upwards. Among the oddities was a stuffed peacock that opened and closed its own tail regularly, and a lamp covered in fur. Yvonne preened a bit in a nearby mirror decorated with feathers then headed up the stairs.

They led to a purple sitting room, lit by a large open window that let a gentle breeze through. The wizard Erasmus, wearing a robe the same color as his sitting room spotted with gold stars, was sitting comfortably in his chair, sipping a steaming mug of tea. "Welcome to my home, my dear," he greeted her, waving an arm. 

"Thank you," she curtsied stiffly.

"Come, sit down," Erasmus waved his hand and another chair appeared at the table, with a steaming mug of tea in front of it. "Join me for tea."

Yvonne sat primly in the chair with some difficulty; it sagged as if it wanted to fully embrace her. She carefully sipped the tea. The warm beverage seemed to flow through her body, massaging her aching muscles and inviting her to relax. She almost smiled, until she remembered where she was. "It's quite good," she allowed.

"Tea is such a wonderful beverage," Erasmus smiled. "It soothes the mind and body. It's almost like a magical potion." Then, he called out, "Fenrus! Our guest is here!"

A large rat wearing the exact same hat as Erasmus popped into existence above the table, complete with a floating couch to lounge on. "Hello!" it said, twitching its whiskers in a friendly manner. "I'm Fenrus."

"Fenrus is my Familiar," Erasmus explained.

"How do you know it isn't the other way around?" Fenrus grinned. "You could be *my* Familiar, you know."

"Now that idea is ridiculously preposterous! You're not being a polite host, confusing our guest like this."

"Sorry," Fenrus apologized to Yvonne, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I didn't hear your name."

"My name is Yvonne," she answered, dipping her head politely. "It is nice to meet you."

"Same here." Fenrus glanced over the table, then twitched his nose. "Cheese, please." A large hunk of cheddar landed on his couch, and he nibbled at it contentedly.

"You are an aspiring wizard I hear," Erasmus said to her.

"Yes. I have read much about the subject."

"Oh, then have you heard the one about the witch's broom?"

"No."

"That's odd," Erasmus grinned at her. "It's sweeping the valley."

"Let's just brush that one aside, shall we?" Fenrus added.

Yvonne blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Do you know the difference between a comma and a cheetaur?"

Yvonne had the sinking feeling she was in for another bad joke. "No."

"A cheetaur has claws at the end of its paws, and a comma is a pause at the end of a clause!" 

Fenrus giggled.

"I hear there is a lot of magic in this valley," Yvonne said as quickly as she dared. It was one thing to be polite, but it was a different matter to listen to bad jokes all afternoon.

"As I always said," Erasmus sipped his tea, "magic is the essence and the soul of life, and the wizard is her poet."

"Actually, it was Merlin who said it first, and he said 'magician,' not 'wizard'," Fenrus corrected him.

"Sometimes I think you'd make a better newt," Erasmus said.

"Why?"

"Because newts can't talk."

"Neither can most rats."

"You did say that a wizard's duty is to play the harpstrings of magic as a bard plays his lute," Yvonne said. 

"You've read my book!" Erasmus exclaimed delightedly. He turned to Fenrus, "I knew she was a woman of intelligence."

"But not of good taste," Fenrus shot back.

"You're just jealous because you don't have a book for people to read."

"If we could return to the subject of magic," Yvonne prompted, irritatedly. 

"Ah yes." Erasmus took a long sip of tea before speaking again. "You've read my book, which is *the* book on magic by the way, and you seem to be well versed in the subject. Can you cast any spells?"

"Yes. I have learned all that Zara had to sell in her magic shop."

"Ah, Zara. A bit of a show-off if you ask me, with that shop being how it is."

"And Damiano's just as bad as she is," Fenrus added.

"She has quite a few of the basic spells if I recall correctly," Erasmus said. "Not enough to make you a wizard, but they're good for beginners."

"How many spells do you need to become a wizard?" Yvonne asked.

"The regulations of the Wizard's Institute of Technory state you need to prove you know seven basic spells. Spells that every wizard knows, like open, fetch, and zap."

"You mean eight spells," Fenrus said.

"No, it's seven. It says so in the manual."

"You never read the manual."

"It did say eight," Yvonne said.

Erasmus raised a questioning brow at her. "Our local wizard loaned the book to my father," Yvonne explained. "I memorized most of it."

"It's no good memorizing a bunch of hogwash," Erasmus waved a dismissing hand. "The rules and regulations only apply to those who plan on staying and studying magic. Seven or eight, the exact number doesn't matter. What does matter is your knowledge of them."

"I can cast four."

Erasmus shook his head. "Knowing how to cast them doesn't matter. You need to know how to use them."

"What do you mean?"

Erasmus waved his hand, and the tea table was transformed into a large mountain of paths, complete with interconnecting doors and bridges. "This is Wizard's Maze, a popular game among wizards. To play you need to know the spells firebolt, open, trigger, and zap. Would you like to play?"

"I thought you said you didn't like that game," Fenrus said.

"I never said that. I said I don't like playing with you."

"That's 'cause you always lose," Fenrus smirked.

"That's because you cheat." He turned back to Yvonne. "How about it, my dear? Would you like to challenge a Wizard's Maze Master?"

Fenrus snorted.

"I don't think I can play," Yvonne answered. "I don't know the spell 'trigger.' Zara doesn't sell it."

"Zara doesn't have all the magic in this valley," Fenrus told her. "You never know where you'll find spells."

"But for trigger, you'd best visit Henry the Hermit by the Flying Falls," Erasmus said. " I gave him my copy of the spell a long time ago, and he uses it for practically everything in his cave. He'll give it to you."

"Does the magic in the valley refer to the enchantment?" Yvonne asked, curiosity piqued by Fenrus' statement. "Zara has told me that the enchantment makes it difficult to travel the forests in safety."

"Ah, Baba Yaga!" Erasmus grinned in appreciation. "Her curse is a fine example of creative cursing. The Baron is doomed to loose everything he holds dear, and this valley is doomed to be cut off from the rest of the world. For an ogress with little magical training, it's quite an accomplishment."

"So why do you not get rid of this curse?"

"Simply, I can't. A curse is not a magic spell, cast once then set aside. It can only be undone by another curse, or as I like to call it, a countercurse."

"Countercurse?"

"A curse on the curse, to make a curse for the worse," Fenrus quipped.

Erasmus rolled his eyes. "Yes. The countercurse for this nasty one goes something like this: Come a hero from the East, free the man from in the beast, free the child from the band, drive the curser from the land."

Fenrus gave Erasmus a look. "Don't you mean..."

"Now, now, Fenrus," Erasmus chided. "Yvonne does not want to hear any more of your bad rhymes." He turned back to Yvonne. "Where did you come from, my dear?"

"Champagne," Yvonne said, smiling a bit. "From the west, I believe." 

Erasmus blinked while Fenrus laughed. Regaining his composure, he said, "It doesn't matter anyway. What does matter is that until the curse is reversed, you will have much difficulty leaving this valley. And you'll have to leave the valley if you want to get to WIT." He gave her a meaningful look, and for a moment the goofy grandfather that lounged in the chair beside her became the powerful wizard that she had read so much about. She felt he was looking at her soul, and reacted the only way she knew how. 

"I have no intention of breaking this curse," she said, straightening her back to give her more height. "I only wish to become a wizard. If you will not take me as your apprentice, I suggest you tell me now so I may find a more suitable master." Yvonne lifted her head as if awaiting a challenge to her remark. She may have wished to learn from him, but she was not going to let him take advantage of her. 

Erasmus stared, then began to chuckle. "My dear, wizards never take apprentices. Too much trouble."

Yvonne went red. None of the books she had read had ever mentioned this fact, which probably all the wizards knew. And now, Erasmus, the wizard she had admired for so long, was laughing at her. It was intolerable. "Forgive me for intruding on your tea time," she said, icily, slowly rising to gain composure. "It appears I have wasted your time."

As she turned to leave, Erasmus called after her, "I won't be your teacher, but I will be your sponsor."

"I beg your pardon?" Yvonne turned back around.

Erasmus motioned towards the chair and waited until she had reseated herself before explaining. "I said, I won't be your teacher, but I will be your sponsor. When you learn enough spells to take the test at WIT, you will need a sponsor, someone who graduated from WIT who acknowledges the fact that you are an accomplished magic user. This prevents all the prestidigitators and other hoax magicians from wasting our time."

"And you are willing to be my sponsor?"

"Once you've proven yourself."

Yvonne suddenly did not like the way this conversation was heading. "And how must I do that?"

Erasmus grinned. "Beat me at Wizard's Maze."

She almost let out a sigh of relief. "Very well. I will beat you."

"Ah ah ah! Not so fast!" Erasmus held up a warning finger. "First, you must answer me this question."

"Which is?"

"How many goons does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"

Yvonne's eyes narrowed. "Another joke?"

"Five!" Fenrus grinned. "One to hold the lightbulb, and four to turn him round!"

"Really, my dear, you must develop a sense of humor." The maze converted back to the tea table, complete with tea and cakes. "More tea?"

Yvonne's cup was refilled, and she half-listened to Erasmus and Fenrus telling her awful jokes and arguing over punchlines. She wished Erasmus had kept the maze on the table, for she wished to study it further. It would be no easy matter besting the world's greatest wizard at a game he played often, but she was determined to do it. She would prove to him that she was worthy of becoming a wizard, and then, she would be on her way to WIT. Curse or no curse.

*******

Yvonne left after they ate lunch, as quiet, cold, and polite as she had arrived. No amount of jocularity could even make her mouth twitch into a smile. "More's the pity," Erasmus sighed, after he had transported her back down the mountain. "She's had her defenses up since she got here. It will be difficult to deal with her until she learns to trust me."

"It didn't help that you lied to her," Fenrus told him.

"I didn't lie to her," Erasmus said, innocently.

"You didn't tell her the whole truth either."

"If I did that, everything would be ruined. And she would never trust me. This way is much better. Besides, she can think she created her destiny on her own, rather than following the omens of a batty wizard and his rat." Erasmus glanced towards a calendar on his wall. "Time is running out, old friend. I only hope things go as well as we hope." 


	6. Chapter 5

SO YOU WANT TO BE A HERO

Chapter 5

The sun had been up for many hours by the time Alex stirred from his bed. Yawning, he washed his face and took a good look at himself in the mirror. He was the embodiment of every woman's dreams; tall, dark, handsome and mysterious. His face was thin, his nose aquiline, and his eyes a rich brown, just a shade lighter than his hair. Though he shaved, a habit his grandmother highly disapproved of, he kept a neat goatee around his mouth and chin. It kept him from looking honest. 

As he dressed, he remembered the message he read last night. "B- He's getting suspicious. Hold off on our meetings for a bit, but I'll keep you posted by these notes. -B."

He wondered who exactly it was from and for. Perhaps from a thief to a thief, he thought, remembering that the goon in the tavern was guarding the entrance to the Thieves' Guild. But who would be getting suspicious? The Sheriff? Alex put that idea aside. The Sheriff didn't look like the type to go on undercover missions himself. And, judging by the intelligence of his only hired hand, there was no chance he would be able to get information that way. Perhaps the Baron? Another prominent thief? Alex shook his head. Clearly he had as little information to go on as the Sheriff. The notes seemed likely to continue, so Alex had plenty of time to solve this little mystery. What he had to concern himself about now was getting the password to the Thieves' Guild.

When he went downstairs, he learned that Yvonne had left early that morning, and that Shema was out looking for ingredients for tonight's dinner. He ate a cold sandwich, provided by an apologetic Shameen, and walked out into the courtyard.

It was still cool outside, despite being near noon, and snow was slowly dripping off the roofs of the nearby houses. Like yesterday, few shops were open and a young girl sat industriously behind a small vegetable cart with few pickings. The Sheriff was not occupying his usual seat in front of the town jail, leaving his goon on guard. An unsavory character was taking advantage of this opportunity, leaning against the town gate and tossing a nasty-looking knife in one hand.

The man was the exact picture of a thug. He was tall, perhaps a head above Alex, and his muscles were straining the threads of his leather jerkin. Coarse black hair covered his head and chin and traveled down his arms to his hands. His eyes were flinty and his nose looked like it had been broken a few times. He was watching the forest, as if waiting for something or someone to appear, masking his irritation by playing with his knife.

Well, now, Alex thought. Maybe my luck is turning. "Good morning!" Alex said as he approached the man. "I take it you're waiting for newcomers to arrive?"

"Maybe," the man snapped, still tossing his knife. "What's it to you?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that this small town gets so few visitors lately."

"Like yourself?"

Alex smiled. "Touche'. I'm Alex."

"Bruno. What are you doing in Spielburg? You don't look like a trader or a farmer."

"Call me a businessman."

"What's your business?"

"Same as yours." Alex gave him a knowing look.

"Think you're clever, eh?" Bruno sneered. "Managed to get in then, have you?"

"I'll admit to some... difficulty," Alex looked over his shoulder at Otto. 

"And you want me to help you, is that it?"

"I was hoping so."

"Things in Spielburg aren't free."

Alex tossed a bag in the air, which Bruno deftly caught and hid in his tunic. "Will that suffice?"

Bruno pretended to scratch his chest, feeling out the number of coins in the sack. "Yeah, that'll do. Talk to Sneak. He'll give you what you need."

Alex scowled inwardly. He had paid Bruno more than enough for the man to at least tell him the password! "And where might I find him?"

"You're a smart man," Bruno smirked, taking out another knife to juggle. "I'm sure you'll find him on your own."

Fuming, Alex let out a deep breath to calm himself. 10 silvers for nothing! He might as well have gone and asked the Sheriff for all the good that did him. Now what was he going to do?

As he brooded, a man approached, as tall and muscular as Bruno but very handsome, and the embodiment of honesty and gullibility. He was whistling as he walked down the road with a battered shield strapped to his back and a large broadsword swinging from his side. Seeing the two men together, he grinned and approached them. "Ho, good citizens of Spielburg," he greeted them. "How are you this fine day?" His good humor went unaffected when Bruno and Alex glared at him. "I suppose you are feeling down about all the monsters and brigands in the woods?" 

"So?" Bruno said. 

"You'll be glad to know I'm off to fight the monsters plaguing you and keeping all the people away from your good town as well!" The lad struck a statuesque pose.

"Gonna clear away the big landslide blocking the only road into town then?" Bruno sneered.

The lad blinked, thinking. "I don't know. Rock-clearing doesn't sound very heroic."

Bruno roared with laughter. "So you want to be a Hero then? Gonna defeat all the brigands with your sword? Gonna defeat Baba Yaga and return the Baronet and the Baroness to the baron? All by yourself?"

"Well, yes," the lad answered, confusion on his face. "That's what Heroes do."

"Then I've got some information for you." Bruno held out his palm expectantly. "But it'll cost you." When the youth had given him a coin, Bruno told him, "There are LOTS of brigands in these woods."

The young man frowned confusedly. Alex could almost see the mental gears whirring as the lad wrestled with the idea that he might have been duped. If it came to blows, Alex knew full well which one would win. He decided to save the young optimist. "My name is Alex. I'm a newcomer, like yourself."

"Hans!" Hans gratefully shook his hand. "I'm going to be the Hero of Spielburg!"

"So I heard," Alex couldn't help but be amused. If all it took was optimism and enthusiasm, there was no doubt Hans would achieve his goal. Alex wondered if he had the other skills necessary to get the job done. "Off to do some heroing then?"

"Yep. I'm going out to rid the woods of all the monsters." Hans resumed his former pose, a big grin plastered on his face.

"Well, good luck," Alex told him. 

"Thanks!" Hans' face clouded a moment as he looked at Alex. "You aren't trying to be the Hero of Spielburg either, are you?"

"You don't have to worry about me. I don't have any Heroic ambitions."

Hans breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. I'd hate to have too much competition. And I wouldn't want to have to beat you. You're a nice guy."

"Thank you," Alex managed not to laugh. "I'd better not keep you from your heroing."

Hans nodded, then with a "good bye," and hearty wave, he left them.

"'You're a nice guy,'" Bruno sneered. "Born charmer, aren't you?"

"And what have we here?" the Sheriff said, coming up to them, eyes accusing. He glared at Bruno. "I thought I told you I didn't want to see you in my town. Ever."

"I'm not 'in' your stinkin' town, Meistersson" Bruno replied. "What're you going to do? Arrest me for leaning against the gate?"

The Sheriff glowered at him, unwilling to admit he was right. He turned his anger on Alex. "And what about you? Making a bad reputation for yourself already, are we?"

"I believe you are the one making the reputation," Alex smiled at him. "I am innocent."

"Innocent, eh? Innocent doesn't associate with thieves." He indicated Bruno.

Alex's eyes widened in mock disbelief. "He's a thief? I would never have guessed."

"Don't mess with me," the Sheriff snapped. "I've got my eye on you. You pull one false move, and I'll have your tail behind bars so quick that you won't have time to blink."

"I will be careful to make all my moves truthful," Alex bowed. "And not associate with people leaning against town gates. Is there anything else I shouldn't do?"

The Sheriff glowered at him. "Keep your smart mouth to yourself. Or better yet, to him," he jerked his thumb towards Bruno. 

"Good day, Sheriff," Alex waved as Meistersson walked back to his chair. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Bruno make a swift gesture with his hands. He turned around to just catch someone duck underneath a nearby bush outside of town. How interesting, he mused. "I suppose I should leave you alone," he said, loudly. "Our good Sheriff seems to think you've a bad reputation."

"Yeah, yeah," Bruno snapped, and added in a mocking voice, "You'd better go now before you get in trouble. Wouldn't want you to lose your 'nice guy' image, would we?"

"Good day, then," Alex said. 

"don't forget to drink the Dragon's Breath!" Bruno called after him. "It's a real zinger!"

"Indeed," Alex murmured, remembering the smoking nostrils from the barrel containing Dragon's Breath. He doubted he'd give the delicacy a try. Now, all there was to do was locate Sneak. In a town this size, he felt it wouldn't be too difficult.

***

The morning was crisp, and patches of snow still clung to the branches of the trees, despite the spring sun. Hans watched his breath cloud before his face, happy that his mother had made him a nice warm cloak. He wondered what his family was doing now.

He didn't have time to wonder long. A short, green man-like creature, hunched over and wearing patched-together armor trundled down the same path Hans was on. It froze when it saw him, deep-set red eyes glaring beneath it's rusty helmet.

"A monster! This is my chance!" Hans murmured to himself, drawing his sword. "Hold fast, Monster! Hans Aidendale- whoa!" Hans backpedaled, parrying the creature's spear as it rushed at him, uninterested in his speech. Squealing like a pig it swung its spear wildly at him, nearly taking off his head.

Instantly, Hans' feet took the position the Swordmaster drilled into him for two days and he thrust his sword at the creature. The spear came round again and knocked Hans' sword from his hand. Panicked, Hans threw his shield at the creature, hoping to at least distract it, and his heart sank when the creature easily dodged it, charging him again.

Hans moved to the right, but not in enough time to prevent the spear from cutting into his side. He tried to ignore the pain, scrambling over to where his sword was. He heard the creature charging again and rolled to the right, sword in hand. Unable to stop running, the creature rammed its spear into a large tree. It foamed as it yanked at its weapon, but it was too late. Hans swung his sword into its head, cracking the skull and killing it. 

It was over in seconds.

Hans panted, watching the creature as if it would suddenly move. His hands and legs were still trembling from the excitement and his side stung, but he had triumphed. He had killed his first monster. He grinned. "I did it!" he whooped, jumping into the air and dancing about, forgetting the pain in his side in his excitement. "I killed a monster!" Remembering the Swordmaster's advice, he searched the body, wrinkling his nose at the stench, and found only a few silvers for his trouble. "That's not going to buy me chain mail," he complained, glaring at the dead body before him. 

His side began to throb, reminding him that he was injured. "But I guess it'll pay the Healer's bill," he sighed. He picked up his tossed shield and headed back to town.

***

Brandon stared glumly at the wall of stones and snow that blocked the only way out of Spielburg. /If only someone cared enough to come and clear this, then the roads could open up for trade again./ he thought. /Then again, with the brigands robbing everyone, I guess no one would come even if someone made the effort./ He longed to be back in his cottage in his old job, though there wasn't even a smidgen of a chance he could go back.

Brandon supposed the new Laird of Dunnovan considered himself generous for firing Brandon after the worst of the winter snows, forcing him to return to the trading life his father had abandoned nine years ago. There were few adequate furs they had collected that winter and Brandon could barely remember the route they used to follow. All he had remembered was that they stopped in Spielburg, a small town catering to adventurers and other would-be heroes.

Heroes. Brandon had dreamed of being a hero once, but that was years ago. His father hated the idea, and called heroes men who had no job or people skills. Now Brandon was much too old and inexperienced to even think about the idea, despite what Wolfgang told him.

Thinking of Wolfgang made him remember the task he had set out to accomplish. He made a quick memo on the parchment he was carrying. So far he had mapped the area immediately surrounding the town: the old archery range that looked as if even the castle guards were avoiding it, the castle, and Heinrich the Centaur's orchard. 

He smiled as he remembered his conversation with the centaur. Somehow the gloom that had pervaded Spielburg didn't touch him, and he happily talked Brandon's ear off about his budding apple trees and the new land he had acquired for growing potatoes. He also talked about his encounter with the brigands, leaving him with little money and a broken hind leg. "But, it could have been a lot worse," Heinrich had told him. "Just as they were about to kill me, their leader stepped out and stopped them. He sounded very young, and very angry. He told them that no-one from the town was supposed to be hurt, and made them take me to Amelia."

/A brigand leader who cares about who he robs,/ Brandon thought. /Now there's a contradiction. It's like a hunter who doesn't want to hurt the animals he's hunting./

He frowned slightly. It wouldn't do any good thinking along those lines; he wasn't a hero, thus there was nothing he could do about it. It was like the rocks he was facing. He didn't have the strength to lift them. /Maybe I have secret powers,/ Brandon joked. /It's like if I touched these rocks, they would fly out of the way and the roads would be clear./ Impulsively, he removed his gloves and traced the cracks down each boulder, as if trying to find the magic point that would make them roll away and disappear. Numbing cold gripped his hands, and suddenly he felt alone and afraid. All he could think about was the pain in his hands, coursing through his bones, bleeding him, tearing him apart... 

Brandon jerked his hands back. He stared at the rocks in front of him as the pain dissipated into nothing save an afterthought. Did I imagine that? he asked himself, examining his hands. They were a little cold, but that was all. No blood, not even a scratch. "That was odd," he said, shivering. Suddenly, he realized the forest surrounding him was completely still.

There were no bird calls, no rustling leaves, as if the forest had paused to listen to something. Or someone. Brandon had a sinking feeling it was him. "Was that you?" he asked before he could stop himself. "Of course not," he shook his head. "The forest doesn't talk." He looked at his hands again. It had felt so real.

Great. Now I'm hallucinating. Brandon slumped down. Help the Baron, help the town, and now help the forest. What were they doing asking *him* for anything? "I'm no hero," he insisted, loudly. "What can I do?"

A snapping sound broke the silence around him, followed by a yip of pain. Instantly, he was on his feet, knife out. Wolfgang had said the monsters tended to avoid the area around town, but there was no need to take any chances. Quietly he edged towards the sound. 

It turned out to be a small fox wrestling with a trap that had snapped shut on its hind leg. Sensing Brandon as he approached, it growled a warning, then redoubled its efforts, trying to yank itself free.

"Easy, fella, easy." Brandon put away his knife and spread his hands before him. "I'm not going to hurt you." The fox seemed to assess him for a moment, then let out a small whine for help.

Brandon knelt down to examine the trap. It was constructed like a human jaw, made especially for catching smaller animals like rabbits and foxes. Rust spotted the teeth, but the hinge was obviously still in excellent working condition. Brandon easily pulled the jaws apart, holding them long enough for the fox to remove its leg. "You should be all right," he told it, giving it a cursory examination. "It doesn't appear to be broken."

The fox walked a couple of paces, then whined, licking its injured leg. "I guess it's worse than I thought," Brandon murmured, picking it up. It didn't protest, but settled contentedly into his arms. "Comfortable?" Brandon couldn't help smiling. "Amelia will help you. She's the best healer I've ever seen."


	7. Chapter 6

SO YOU WANT TO BE A HERO

Chapter 6

"You got lucky," Amelia Appleberry, the healer, told Hans, cleaning his wound with a cloth soaked in some kind of mixture. It stung very badly; Hans tried to keep his heroic smile from turning into a grimace. "It's not very deep, and it's a clean cut." She pressed the cloth more firmly on the wound, and chuckled when Hans yelped. "It should heal quickly. Here, hold this," she instructed him, walking back to her potions.

Hans gingerly pressed the cloth to his side, gritting his teeth. He wanted nothing more than to take it off, but if Amelia was anything like his mother, he would be in for a long lecture if he did. Instead, he tried to keep his attention off the pain by looking at his surroundings. 

It reminded Hans of his mother's kitchen, with a lingering smell of spices and herbs. There was a hearth in the middle of the room, large enough to heat three cauldrons of liquid that were suspended from the ceiling above it. Shelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with containers and glass flasks of liquids. Although it looked like a workplace, somehow it felt like home. Too much like his own home. "Your place is very nice," he said conversationally, trying to ignore the homesick feeling.

"Thank you," Amelia beamed. "I can't decorate it much since I need the space for my wares and ingredients, but I tried to make it feel like a home. This way people feel more comfortable coming in here." She threw some powder into one of the cauldrons and busied herself around another one.

Hans used that opportunity to get a quick peek at his wound. Sure enough, it had stopped bleeding and probably wouldn't even scar. He felt a tad disappointed. He had hoped for a heroic scar to help him remember his first battle. "Can I take this off now?"

Amelia scurried over to him and looked critically at his wound. "Not yet. The bleeding may have stopped, but I want to make sure it doesn't develop into something else. If you don't mind me asking, why were you fighting a goblin in the first place?"

"I'm going to be the new hero of Spielburg!" Hans announced, trying to look heroic with the woman poking his side. "It's my duty to rid Spielburg of all the monsters."

"Really?" Amelia replaced the cloth and walked back to her concoctions on the fire. "It's about time that Baron did something about the monsters walking loose in the valley, instead of sitting holed up in that castle. And none of that!" she glanced sharply at Hans, who was edging off the table. "You sit right there until I come back." She headed towards the back, murmuring to herself.

Moping, Hans stayed put and waited. He wondered if she would be gone long, and hoped she wouldn't. He was beginning to get bored.

Luckily, right after Amelia left, a young man holding a fox entered, calling the healer's name.

"She went to get something," Hans answered him.

"Oh. Did she say how long she would be?"

Hans shook his head. "Probably not too long. Is that yours?"

"No, no," the young man laughed. "I just wanted Amelia to take a look at his foot. It might be injured."

"Better hold on to him tight then. Her medicine really hurts." Hans looked at the fox sympathetically.

As if it could understand Hans, the fox wriggled free and was out the door before either of them could react. "That's odd," the young man murmured, thoughtfully. "It didn't seem able to walk on its own before."

Hans shrugged. He didn't blame the fox; he didn't want to be in the healer's hut any more either. He introduced himself and learned the young man's name was Brandon. "Are you a citizen of Spielburg?" Hans asked.

Brandon shook his head. "I'm a visitor."

"Like me! I just came a couple of days ago! I'm going to be the Hero of Spielburg!" He tried to straighten himself into a heroic pose, but the pain in his side made him wince. 

"You're an adventurer?"

"Yes! Sort of. I'm training to be a fighter."

"You'll want to see Wolfgang at the Adventurer's Guild, then. He knows everything about the monsters in this valley. But, unfortunately, nothing about the brigands."

"Brigands?" Hans' screwed up his face, trying to remember what that bearded man had told him this morning. "There are a lot of them, right?"

Brandon nodded. "They've managed to block the trade route to Spielburg. No one is safe on the road anymore."

"It wasn't always that way," Amelia came in, arms full of various weeds and flowers. Brandon hurried over to help her. Gratefully, she handed him an armful and set him to work sorting them out on a nearby table while she herself ground them in a mortar. She talked while she worked. "There have always been brigands in the woods, but they've never been much of a bother to anyone. Five years ago, the brigand leader managed to convince them they would be more effective if they worked as a group rather than by themselves. And, even more amazingly, he's managed to keep them together all these years." 

"What do you mean?" Hans asked.

"Brigands work alone because they don't want to share their profits with anybody," Amelia explained, pounding her herbs together with vigor. "They're sneaky, lying bastards, even to each other. A group of them could take down a caravan, but then they'd argue over who'd keep the profits and one would kill the rest just because he didn't want to share. The fact that they'd even listen to one man, much less obey him, is incredible. Whoever that leader is, he's a real genius."

"He seems to be honorable," Brandon added. "That might be why."

"Honorable?" Hans asked. Brandon explained what he had heard from Heinrich, which only made Hans scratch his head. "Why would he do that? Bad guys don't save people."

"That's the riddle," Amelia sighed. "It would be easy to hate him if he was truly evil. But he saved Heinrich. And I got the feeling I knew him from somewhere when I saw him."

"You saw him?" Brandon and Hans spoke at the same time, incredulous.

"Only when he brought Heinrich in, and even then only briefly." Amelia paused in her work. "I don't know what it was, but something about his mannerisms and speech made him familiar somehow. Like... royalty." Amelia shrugged, going back to her pounding. "If he is royalty and is playing some game, he'd better not come in here if he knows what's good for him!"

"Royalty," Brandon murmured. "I wonder..." He looked at Hans, who was surreptitiously trying to remove the cloth over his wound, then smiled. It wouldn't do any good wondering; Spielburg had its hero. And Hans looked the very picture of one: tall, muscular, and handsome. He would take care of the brigands and then trade would open up again. There would be no more odd happenings in the woods, with trees seeming to speak to him and pain coming from nowhere. Life would return to normal. With that in mind, Brandon continued to sort the plants, humming softly to himself.

*******

A knock at her door jerked Yvonne from the passage she had been reading. "Who is it?," she called out, lazily brushing a stray lock away from her face.

"Shema."

"Come in." Yvonne straightened into a sitting position as the katta entered.

Shema entered, the lamp she held in her hand brightening Yvonne's dimly lit room. "Are you hungry? It is getting late, and supper is almost ready."

Yvonne looked towards the window. As always, she had not noticed that the light was waning. The word supper set her stomach growling. "I will be down shortly."

Shema nodded, then closed the door.

Yvonne stretched, marked her place, and put the book back into her knapsack. The knapsack was a gift from her sister Rosalie; large enough to hold two horseloads of things yet light enough for her to carry it all. Rosalie said she bought it from a travelling merchant who sold all sorts of unusual items, and thankfully, the merchant's wares were true to his word. Yvonne managed to fit in half her wardrobe, five books, a month's supply of food, and still had some room left. She smiled at the thought of her sisters. No doubt most of them were arguing over who was more fashionable at the various balls they were attending, buying dresses to ensure their fashionability, and driving their father and her mother insane. Over half the clothes in the knapsack was their doing; they were insistent that Yvonne would be in fashion wherever she found herself. Not that she minded this at all, but a couple of the outfits did not suit her complexion very well.

All of her sisters were like their mother; pale as ivory, eyes like sapphires, and curly golden hair. Yvonne most resembled her own mother with raven-dark hair and violet eyes. The only interest she and her sisters had ever shared were clothes; they were interested in courtly life while she had buried herself away in books. She had almost enjoyed their daily lessons with the tutors.

Almost.

She frowned, recalling the snide remarks most of them had made about a woman who could learn faster than they liked. Most had tried to hinder her learning, thinking it best she thought more about a husband for herself, especially as she grew older. Her cousin, out of pity, had tried to find a suitable beau for her.

Yvonne shuddered. She was not going to think about him. Not now. 

Instead she turned to the mirror, vigorously brushing her long hair free from tangles until she had regained her composure. She considered dressing for dinner, thought of Alex, and decided firmly against it. 

When Yvonne came down the stairs, Shameen was busy talking with a tall young man, thankfully not Alex. When the katta saw her, he waved her over and introduced her to the young man he had been speaking with. "Hans, this is Yvonne. She is staying here as well."

"Nice to meet you!" Hans extended his hand.

"A pleasure," Yvonne took it. 

"If you will be seated, my lifemate will bring out your meal."

"Thank you." Both sat down at the table. "What are you doing here in Spielburg?" Hans asked her.

"I am studying to become a magic-user," Yvonne told him, bracing herself for his reaction.

To her surprise, he stared at her in admiration. "Wow! I've never talked with a magic-user before!"

"I'm not yet one," Yvonne corrected, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I am currently studying. And yourself?"

"Oh, no, I don't want to use magic. I can't even read."

"I meant, what are you doing here in Spielburg?"

"I'm going to be a hero!" Hans stood and posed, brandishing his sword. "I even killed a monster today. With this!"

"Indeed." Yvonne recalled Erasmus' countercurse poem. Surely this was the hero Spielburg needed so badly. "You intend to take care of Baba Yaga?"

Hans frowned, thinking. "What's that?"

"An ogress who has cursed the town of Spielburg. It is her spell that took the Baron's son and daughter away from him as well as keeps the monsters around the area of Spielburg."

"What's an ogress?"

"A female ogre."

"Oh." Hans pulled his brows tightly together, as if he were concentrating heavily on something. Yvonne wondered if he was all right. Finally, he brightened. "An ogre is a monster, right?"

Yvonne nodded.

"Then don't worry. Hans Aidendale will rid Spielburg of all the monsters!" He posed again, pleased he finally understood.

"Good luck to you, then," Yvonne told him. She wondered if it would truly be all right leaving the saving of the village up to Hans. He wasn't too bright, and dealing with magic took delicacy. She shook her head. Whatever happened to Hans didn't concern her. She was not about to let Erasmus get his way with this countercurse.

*****

It was night- a time when all good citizens were safe behind locked doors, and thieves and other predators prowled the streets. Although this night, it seemed only Alex was about. He had thought to find Sneak in one of the alleyways in Spielburg, which admittedly there were very few, but no luck. It was nearing midnight and the only thing he had run across was a giant rat scuttling from the warmth of one building to another. "This is ridiculous," he muttered, glaring at the tavern which he had approached ten times this night. With my luck, he's probably inside the Guild playing checkers. I guess I'd better call it a night.

Before giving up completely, he decided to have a look in all the alleyways one last time, just in case. As he peered down the dark alley near the tavern, he glimpsed a gold coin winking strangely in the moonlight, as if it were a beacon for someone. The mysterious Mr. B perhaps? Never one to let a mystery go unsolved, Alex headed into the alley, hand on his knife. 

The alley felt like a completely different place from the town. Alex couldn't quite place his finger on it, but it felt as though someone, or something, was watching him from the deep shadows surrounding him. The only thing illuminated in the alley was the area around the strange winking coin. Alex walked gingerly, eyes open for movement, and, disappointingly, reached the coin without incident. He picked it up, and examined it. "Just an ordinary coin," he sighed, standing. He felt really childish for letting his imagination run away with him. Just because he was in a dark alley didn't necessarily mean there was any danger lurking.

He heard the swish of a cape too late. Within seconds he was pinned against the wall, a cold knife pressed against his neck. "Wrong," his captor said, grinning wickedly. "That there's what we call *bait*."


	8. Chapter 7

SO YOU WANT TO BE A HERO

Chapter 7

Alex told himself to remain calm. There must be some way to turn this situation to his advantage. The man pressing him to the wall certainly looked and acted like a thief. "Are you Sneak?" Alex asked.

"I am." Another man emerged from the shadows, slightly less greasy looking than his companion, but with the same dangerous air. "Who wants to know?"

"Bruno sent me. He told me to ask you about the Thieves' Guild."

"Bruno?"

"Don' lissen ta him!" the man who held Alex hissed, pressing the knife closer. "He just wants ta get off scot-free is all."

Sneak paused to consider this. Alex kept silent, calculating. If Sneak decided not to believe him....

"Put him down, Slink."

"But-!"

"I said, put him down!" Sneak growled. "You deaf or somthin'?"

Reluctantly, Slink backed away, sulkily picking his teeth with his dagger.

Alex resisted the urge to feel his neck. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I just told him that 'cause I wanna see proof."

"Proof?"

"If Bruno sent ya, ya must be a thief. And wanna get into the guild." Alex nodded. "Show me proof yer a thief, an' I'll tell ya the password."

Proof? What could he use as proof? Alex felt his pockets. All he had was a couple silvers and a knife. And his lock pick. "Here," he showed it to Sneak, hoping it was proof enough. 

Sneak examined it, then Alex, then handed it back roughly. "Go see Crusher. Tell him 'schwertfich.'"

"Yer not tellin' him the password, are ya?" Slink whined. "He ain't even a member yet."

"Shaddap! Who's the brains of this outfit? Me or you?" Slink cowered under Sneak's glower and looked away, taking a moment to shoot a hateful glare at Alex. Sneak turned back to Alex. "Now get outta here, 'fore I change my mind."

"Thanks," Alex nodded briskly and headed out of the alley. As he walked away, he heard the sounds of a whining protest followed by a slap. So he wasn't the only one who found Slink annoying.

Luckily, the bar was still open this time of night and Crusher was still guarding the entrance to the Guild. Alex wore his most charming smile and sauntered over to the glowering goon. "Good evening."

Crusher's response was to throw him out of the tavern again.

Ruffled and vexed, Alex marched back in. "I wish to enter the Guild," he said, determined to keep the smile on his face. 

"Den what's da password?" Crusher leered.

"'Schwertfisch.'"

Crusher pondered for a long moment, glaring. Alex wondered if he would get the same treatment despite his knowledge of the password. Finally, Crusher shuffled off the trap door and opened it wide enough for Alex to enter. "Hurry," Crusher growled.

Alex climbed down the ladder to find himself in a dimly lit cellar, occupied by two thugs. One was rigidly standing behind a makeshift desk, as if awaiting customers. The other lounged in an old chair casually tossing knives at a target painted on the wall. Most of them hit the bull's eye. Duly impressed, Alex smirked arrogantly and cleared his throat.

The man throwing the knives glanced at him. "Oh, great. An amateur."

"Everyone must start somewhere," Alex said, walking nearer to him. "My name is..."

"Look, if you want to be a member, pay Boris over there." The man indicated his fierce looking partner. "I don't care about your name until then."

"Twenty-five silvers." Boris grunted, holding out a meaty hand.

Alex dropped his money into the hand, suddenly wishing he had brought more with him. He should have guessed entering the guild would be expensive. 

"Welcome to the Guild, Number 1313." The man flicked another knife at the target. "Call me Chief. You are...?"

"Alex."

Chief gave Alex a long look. "No family name?

Alex shrugged. "When you tell me your true name, I'll give you mine."

"Fair enough." Chief returned to his knife throwing. "You have my permission to work in this town. Steal what you can, fence it here. We take a 15% cut of whatever you steal, but the rest of the money's yours. We also sell a toolkit with various lockpicks."

"Something every thief can't afford to be without," Boris added, warming up to the sales pitch. He whipped out an example for Alex to look at. "Included are twelve different lock picks guaranteed to get you through any door you come across, except maybe cell doors. Only 35 silvers."

"Perhaps another time," Alex said, reluctantly. 

"Suit yourself," the Chief smirked. "Boris, show him the thieves' sign."

"You have a sign?"

"It's so other thieves know you're a member. We have a code of honor among ourselves- no stealing from Guild members. It's policy. And, you're privy to whatever information we have, as well as being able to join any guild in any city. We also have great lawyers, for that time when your luck runs bad."

"So, what is the sign?"

With his right hand, Boris rubbed his stomach, put the thumb of his left hand on his nose, outstretched the fingers, and wriggled them in the air.

Alex blinked. *This* was a sign? He had expected something more... dignified. 

He heard the Chief chortling from his corner. "That's everyone's reaction when they see it."

"Couldn't you have used more... subtlety?"

"Nope. No copper would think anything that stupid would be a sign for thieves."

He did have a point. Speaking of coppers, "What do you think of the Sheriff?"

Chief gave Alex a hard look. "Don't mess with Meistersson. He's as good as they come."

"Oh?" Alex quirked a brow. "How so?"

"Just take my word for it," Chief growled. 

Alex made a noise of derision.

"You got anywhere else to be?" Chief asked him, pointedly. "Like plying your trade?"

"Here? There's really nothing to steal."

"That's what you think. You want an assignment? Bring back enough to fence for that lockpicking kit, if you can."

"I shall return with the money tomorrow night." Alex made a short bow, then left.

Chief watched him go, then angrily threw a dagger at the target on the wall. It stuck halfway in, vibrating with pressure. "I hate amateurs."  
  
*****

It was a beautiful morning, Hans thought as he walked through the forest, whistling a heroic tune. This day was a special day, he was finally going to defeat the evil ogress Baba Yaga! The fact that he didn't know where she was didn't bother him; how many evil ogresses could there be in Spielburg? Surely she had to be somewhere in the forest, and it would be no trouble finding her.

Two hours later, he had defeated two goblins and a saurus (which had been a bit difficult) and still no sign of anything that could be called a Baba Yaga. Hans frowned. Where could she be? Maybe he should find someone and ask directions. He peered through the woods, spotting a young man standing near the side of the road. "Hey!" Hans called out to him. "Perhaps you can help me!"

The young man turned about, a spear in his hand and a dangerous gleam in his eye. "You messed up my chance, you bastard!" he spat, stomping towards Hans.

"I'm sorry," Hans apologized. " I just wanted to ask directions."

"I'll give yah directions. Ta Hell!" the man grabbed his spear and thrust at Hans. Hans quickly brought out his shield and deflected the blow, though it hurt a lot. He drew his sword and swung, landing a blow on the man's arm. The man glowered at him, and swung his spear around for another blow.

"Take it easy!" Hans parried again with his shield. "I said I was sorry!"

"Sorry ain't good enough!" the man swung again, then gasped as Hans hit him again. 

"I don't want to hurt you." Hans really hoped the man wouldn't attack again. He didn't want to have to resort to seriously injuring him.

"That's too bad," the man sneered. "'Cause I'm gonna kill you. Never mess with a brigand, sonny!"

"You're a brigand?" Hans gaped.

"Kid's got a brain. Ever use it much?" The brigand brought his spear round again, aiming for Hans' head.

There was no time to think, only react. Hans ducked the swing and thrust his sword into the brigand's stomach. Blood spurted from the wound, covering Hans' hands. Hans looked at the bandit, eyes full of regret. "I really am sorry."

The brigand only grinned maddeningly with bloodstained teeth, dropped his spear, and groped for Hans' throat. "Sorry's fer sissies," he spat, hands tightening.

Hans flailed, hitting the brigand again with his shield and fist as he found it difficult to breathe. In desperation, he kicked upwards and the brigand's hands thankfully fell away to cover whatever Hans had managed to bruise. Hans brought the shield round on the side of the brigand's head and the brigand fell, twitched, and lay still.

Hans collapsed to the ground, trying hard to get his breath back. When he could breathe again, realization hit. 

He had killed a man, a human being. 

He was evil, and he was a brigand that was hurting the kind Spielburgians. He had attacked Hans first. 

But he was still a man.

"Why didn't you run away?" Hans asked desperately. "I told you I didn't want to hurt you. You didn't listen. It's your fault you're dead..." his voice trailed away. 

/I need my sword./ Hans yanked the sword free from the brigand's body. Blood stained the blade. He flung the sword away from him, revolted at the sight. /No, I'm a hero,/ he told himself. /I need my sword./ He retrieved it, fiercely rubbing it onto the grass to clean away the bloodstain. There was so much of it.

It took a while to resheathe the sword; his trembling hands made it difficult to position the sword properly. His eyes came upon the dead body again, lying still on the grass. "I'm sorry," he apologized, backing away. "I'm sorry!" 

Quickly, he fled the scene, needing to wash his hands, his body, his clothes, everything. 

******

The Flying Falls are named appropriately, Yvonne thought to herself as she watched the water cascade down the cliff in great leaps, as if the water was truly flying. The lake that surrounded it was full of activity near the area where it connected with the falls, then smoothed out until it was nearly like a mirror; hence its name "Mirror Lake." Surrounding the lake was a small plain of soft grass spotted with wildflowers that in turn was surrounded by the forest Yvonne had just walked through. Craggy cliffs towered over the lake, resembling a row of jagged teeth that disappeared underneath a blanket of bushes and trees that covered the mountain. It was in these cliffs that Henry the Hermit was rumored to live.

Yvonne had felt somewhat nervous trekking through the woods with the rumors of brigands and monsters prowling in the area, but she needed to learn 'trigger' in order to play Mage's Maze. The Adventurer's Guildmaster had been kind enough to direct her to Flying Falls and gave her a large dagger to protect herself. She immediately cast 'zap' upon the dagger and kept it by her side while she walked. Luckily, nothing bothered her on her journey.

She studied the cliffs on the left side of the lake, looking for an opening in which Henry might reside. There were no caves, but sitting atop a ledge was a large stone door which did a poor job of blending into its surroundings. That must be where Henry lives, Yvonne told herself. The ledge was quite high, and further investigation of the cliff provided no obvious handholds to help her reach it. Yvonne had never climbed mountains or cliffs before; perhaps the narrow crags and bumps would be sufficient enough to hold onto. If she fell, the grass was soft enough to cushion her against bad bruises.

She felt along the side of a cliff for something large enough to put her hand on when she came across a straight line that could only have been made by human hands. "I wonder," she murmured, moving her other hand slowly upwards from her previous one. A foot higher her hand came across another straight surface. Like a rung in a ladder. Yvonne grabbed the two rungs she could feel and tested beneath her with her foot. Slowly she climbed the invisible ladder until she reached the narrow ledge. Pleased with herself, she brushed herself off and knocked loudly on the door.

"Just a minute!" an old voice said. "Move away from the door."

/Move where?/ Yvonne thought, backing up until she had reached the end of the ledge. The massive door swung open, barely brushing past her nose, and out hobbled an old man wearing nothing but a loincloth. Though he was thin and his face wrinkled like an old prune, he looked well fed. He also looked surprised to see a young woman on his step. "Can I 'elp ya?" he asked warily.

"Are you Henry the Hermit?" Yvonne asked.

"S'me. Who're you?"

"A... friend of Erasmus."

The wary look turned into a welcoming grin. "Any friend of Erasmus is a friend o'mine. Come on in." He stepped away from the door to let her inside.

Henry made his home inside a large cave hollowed out inside the mountain. A stream ran in-between two large ledges and merged with the falls outside, providing fresh water for the hermit. Despite this, everything was nice and dry; woven baskets were wedged in a corner and a fire crackled merrily in the center of the main ledge. Three carved stone benches surrounded it, and on the other ledge was a stone bed covered in furs and blankets. Pots, pans and bowls lined shelves carved out of the rock face, and various oddities were scattered about the floor. The smell of Henry pervaded everything. Yvonne schooled her face to the polite mask she wore when visiting and waited patiently as Henry cleared a spot for her on one of the stone benches then plopped down beside her.

"Never 'ad a woman guest b'fore," he said as way of apology for the messy surroundings. "'Ope you don't mind the mess."

"No," Yvonne said, politely. "Your place looks... very comfortable."

Henry grinned at the compliment, gracing her with a full set of discolored teeth. "Lived 'ere a long time, I 'ave. I'm 'Enry. 'Enry the Eigth I is. Me farther was an 'Enry, and 'is farther was an 'Enry, and 'is farther was an 'Enry, and 'is farther was an 'Enry..." Henry went on, fully describing his family genealogy for eight generations and how each one of them was a hermit. "It's a right shame the family's gonna end wi' me." He sighed depressedly. "'Ain't no one in Spielburg me own age now. Not wi' the brigands keepin' everyone out an' all."

"Do they bother you?" Yvonne asked, thinking of the door in the cliff

"Naw. Only that warlock comes 'round every now an' again for cribbage and a cup o' tea." Henry snapped upright. "I's bein' a bad 'ost, not offerin' tea t' a Lady. 'Aven't 'ad comp'ny in so long." He snapped his fingers and a pot hovered over the fire. Another snap and cups winked in front of them, complete with saucers and spoons.

"You know magic," Yvonne added a little awe into her voice.

"This stuff ain't magic," Henry dismissed. "It's just 'trigger' is all."

"'Trigger'?"

"A spell. Erasmus lent it to me a while back. Set everything up in my cave with it, so's I can live royal-like. And it's a big 'elp when I've taken sick."

"Can you teach the spell to me?"

"Sure! Got the paper 'round 'ere somewheres..." Henry stood and began to root through his belongings. "Never did ask your name, Miss..."

"Yvonne," she answered.

"Y'know, me mum was named Yvonne. Came from Versailles she did. Went back too, long wi' me dad, leavin' the family business to me. Ah, 'ere it is." Henry pulled out a stained paper and handed it triumphantly to Yvonne. "You can keep that, I don't need it anymore." As if to prove it, he snapped his fingers and hot tea poured into Yvonne's cup.

Yvonne read the parchment and instantly learned "trigger." Satisfied, she sipped her tea and did her best not to flinch. It was extremely bitter, but she could palate it. She doubted Henry would have sugar and it would be rude to ask if it weren't offered. Setting down her teacup, she recalled, "You mentioned you knew the brigand warlock?"

"Yeah. Nice feller. Got a good sense o' 'umor 'e does. Giggles at everythin', even his own jokes." Henry laughed, remembering. "Why, I remember the time 'e came by and popped firecrackers outside." 

Yvonne patiently listened through a detailed account of the incident before asking another question. "How often do you see him?"

"'E 'asn't been around lately. Not since he borrowed that magic mirror wot I borrowed from Erasmus."

"What magic mirror?"

Henry scratched his beard. "Dunno. Supposed to reflect spells from you or somethin' like that. I forgot exactly wot it does."

"Why would he want to borrow it?"

"Dunno. Didn't think to ask, really, 'im bein' a friend an' all."

"Why would you become a friend to the brigand warlock? He is a brigand himself."

"Aw, but 'e's not bad. No' like the rest o' 'em."

"Can you explain?"

Henry frowned. "Dunno if I should. A 'ermit can keep secrets y'know. Keeps 'em real good like."

Yvonne sipped her tea, thinking. The young hero, Hans was it?, would certainly benefit from whatever information she could give him, especially if he was going to take care of the brigand problem. And the sooner the brigand problem was taken care of, the sooner the roads would be cleared, and the sooner she would become a wizard. "Henry, I'm trying to break the curse on this land. Any information you could give me would help greatly."

Henry considered this for a moment, then nodded. "All right. I'll tell ye what I can. The warlock's name is Yorick, used ta be a court jester ta the baron. Th' Baron 'ad two children, one boy and one girl. 'e left when the baron's daughter disappeared, sayin' 'ed find 'er again."

"Did he?"

"Dunno. What I do know is that 'e's very loyal to the brigand leader. Won't leave, no matter what. And that's all I can tell yeh."

So the brigand warlock was really a court jester in disguise. Yvonne remembered the conversation with Abdulla and wondered how much real magic this Yorick knew. He didn't seem to know any of the spells she did; but that didn't tell her much. She herself only knew five basic ones. But still, why 'warlock'? Aside from the fact that it sounded better than 'magic-user'. 

"By the way," Henry interrupted her thoughts. "I've got somethin' ta ask yeh."

"Yes?" 

He snapped, and a board was laid in front of her, various pieces scattered atop it. "Know 'ow to play Mage's Maze?"

Yvonne stared incredulously at the board. "You know how to play?"

"'Course! Erasmus taught me when 'e got fed up with Fenrus winnin' all a time. It's very easy, and Erasmus 'asn't been around since I beat 'im. Wanna play?"

Yvonne smiled. "Let's."

*****

Brandon glanced apprehensively at the waning sunlight. The forest was not a good place to be during the night, and he was still a good hour's away from the gates of Spielburg. Thinking to do some hunting, he had wandered further north than he had planned on. He had hoped for new furs, and possibly something for dinner aside from Wolfgang's cooking, but he had no luck at all this day. It was like all the animals in the forest were either still hibernating or avoiding him. "At least the monsters and brigands are avoiding me as well," he told himself.

A thundering crash in the bushes behind him told him he had spoken much too soon. Brandon whipped around to see a cheetaur standing in a circle of waning light, eyes gleaming with anticipation. A cheetaur was a rare beast, half cheetah, half man that hunted in the forest at night. It gave Brandon a feral smile, and Brandon knew he was no longer doing the hunting.

****

Author's note: From here on out the story will be somewhat different from the original game. The plot will remain the same, but the details will change. This is partly because I've got four heroes instead of one, but also because I believe it will be told better this way. I hope you continue to enjoy my version of the story. ^__^


	9. Chapter 8

SO YOU WANT TO BE A HERO?

Chapter 8

The Cheetaur reared on its hind legs, roaring a hunting cry. At least, Brandon assumed it was on its hind legs; he was busy running away. Cheetaurs were extremely fast, Brandon knew he wouldn't have enough time to get anywhere near the safety of the town gates before it caught up with him. But maybe he could find somewhere else out here. He had heard Wolfgang mention something about a garden created by the wizard Erana which no creature with evil intent could enter. He only hoped he would find it in time. His ears told him the Cheetaur was not far behind him and was gaining quickly.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a small clump of rocks that looked like they formed an entranceway. He veered left, stumbling, and dived into it, hoping that he was lucky. If he wasn't...

He rolled onto soft grass, fragrant with blossoming flowers. A wave of calm settled upon him as he breathed in the heady air and he leisurely sat up, somehow confident the cheetaur couldn't follow him in here. 

Here was a small meadow surrounded by snow-covered rocks, reaching high enough to block out the rest of the forest from view. He was beneath the only tree that grew in the meadow and sparkling fruits dangled before his eyes, turning golden in the dying rays of the sunset. 

"This must be Erana's Peace," he said to himself, remembering Wolfgang's name for the place. Wolfgang had long forgotten where it was in the forest which Brandon thought was a shame. It would be invaluable for travelers and adventurers who were caught out in the woods late at night. Especially with the creatures that lurked in the woods of Spielburg. 

The sparkling fruits dangling from the tree looked ripe, despite the fact that harvest season was a long way off. A wayward breeze wafted their scent towards Brandon and his stomach growled fiercely, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since noon. He picked a fruit and studied it. It was shaped roughly like a pear and the peel, though shimmery, felt soft enough to eat. He took a small bite, then another. The taste was difficult to describe; it was as though the fruit captured the warmth of the sun and the refreshing quality of a cool stream of water. He waited a few minutes and not feeling any ill effects, finished it off. Feeling peaceful, full, and certain nothing would harm him, he lay down in the grass planning to wait until he no longer heard the Cheetaur before heading back to town. Wolfgang would worry if he stayed out too late. But the minute he laid down, his eyes started to close, and soon he was fast asleep. 

* * *

"Steal enough to buy this lockpicking kit, if you can," Alex repeated derisively under his breath. Finding someone to steal from had been a problem ever since he arrived. He had pondered this all afternoon while walking the streets, looking for potential targets. He had eliminated the Sheriff for now. The lock on his door looked complicated enough to require the new lockpicking kit and he wasn't about to steal from Shameen or Shema; stealing from those who housed you was likely to keep you on the streets. Nor was he going to attempt to steal from the magic shop owner. Who knew what kinds of traps she had laid to snare thieves? That eliminated more than half the open businesses in Spielburg, and the rest didn't look worth even investigating. He had been at a loss.

Until he saw her.

She was an elderly lady, complete with a cat, who slept on a rocking chair outside her home every day. Although her clothes were rather worn, the material it was made out of was fairly expensive. Her sleep was so deep Alex was positive he could have made his way into her home during the daylight hours and robbed her blind without her suspecting a thing. However, that was courting trouble, as her home was only a few doors down from the Sheriff's jail. So he waited until the sun had set and the candles in the surrounding houses were snuffed. 

As usual, no one was about this night, and the light of a waxing moon illuminated the streets enough for Alex to see what he was doing. The lock was old and a bit stubborn but no match for his lockpicking skills. Within a few minutes Alex had entered the house.

The house looked as if it had seen jollier days. The entire downstairs floor looked as though it was used to entertaining guests- a large harp stood in a corner surrounded by worn-looking couches covered with pillows of harmonious designs. Patterned rugs kept the chill of the wooden floor from seeping through the shoes and paintings of every size hung round the room. Shelves were lined with as many candlesticks as they could carry, some of these looked to be made of silver. All these things were covered in a blanket of dust, as if the owner had no hopes of ever using them again.

The only thing that looked as if it was used regularly was the rocking chair. A basket full of unfinished knitting was placed beside it. Within the basket, Alex found a string of pearls with no clasp. He pocketed it then tiptoed over to one of the shelves, took a candelabrum, then mentally calculated his earnings in his head. With the cut that the guild would take, he might not have enough to buy that lockpicking kit. He looked dubiously at the stairs. He had no choice- he had to go up.

The door to the upstairs bedroom was as easy to pick as the outside door. Alex wondered just how much wealth this old lady possessed if she didn't have enough money to properly protect herself from thieves. Perhaps, he thought with a derisive smile, she trusted the Sheriff would apprehend anyone who did steal from her. 

Despite having slept all day outside in her rocking chair, the old woman was snoring softly in her bed. On her bedtable stood a waning candle and a small pouch that looked to have something worth stealing. Alex tiptoed across the floor, and in the dim lighting didn't see the cat until it was too late.

"MRROOOW!!!"

Instinctively, Alex dove under the cover of the baseboard. The candelabra within his cloak hit the floor with a resounding thump and he grabbed it in his fist as the old woman cried out, "Kitty? Is that you?"

Alex couldn't see her, but the light emanating from the candle was beginning to move. He scrabbled over to the other side of the bed and lay flat, hardly daring to breathe. The bed creaked and he heard the soft thump of the old woman getting up on the other side. Alex mentally swore, cursing himself for being so careless and cursing the cat for sleeping near its mistress.

"Kitty? What are you doing there? I thought I told you not to come up here when I'm sleeping." There was the sound of the door closing and soon the mattress squeaked again. After a few more minutes a soft but continuous snore came from the bed. 

Alex let out his breath and slowly peeked at the old woman nestled in the covers. She looked fast asleep. Quickly, before she decided to wake up again, he crawled over to the other side of the bed, snatched the purse, and exited the house.

Once he was safely back inside his room, Alex admired his night's work. The purse contained exactly twenty-five silvers. Combined with the silver candelabra and the string of pearls, he had more than enough to buy the lockpicking kit from the Thieves' Guild. "Sweet success," he smiled to himself. "That'll show them who's an amateur."

* * *

It was quite dark this night, although the moon did illuminate a path where the trees weren't clumped together to block it out. Yvonne wished she had brought a torch, or something that could be ignited so she could see better. Truth be told, Henry did offer her his place as a refuge against the night, but there was no way Yvonne was staying in a place that looked and smelled like a pig sty. 

Her first games of Mage's Maze hadn't been easy. The game was played with two pieces, one for each of the players, which moved by itself towards the finish. The board was a maze of steep pathways, some blocked by various objects, and some paths with part of the path missing. The object of the game was to use magic to alter the pathways, easing the way for the piece to find its way to the finish. Whoever's piece arrived at the finish first, won. Despite having done some practice, Yvonne found herself tiring out before her piece had even gone halfway through the maze. She played Henry three times, losing each time, but learning and building magical strength as she went. It had been a good experience.

Henry had pointed out a shortcut to town and Yvonne was dutifully following his instructions, having no wish to be in the forest for a long time at night. Within five minutes she came to a small clearing where the light of the moon illuminated a circle of huge slabs of stones surrounding a patch of glowing mushrooms. Yvonne had read about faery circles, and this looked exactly like what the books had described.

A rustle in nearby bushes startled her. Heart pounding, Yvonne readied "Flame Dart," hoping that the rustle was only a slight breeze passing through the forest. Her imagination supplied other possibilities as she waited for whatever it was to emerge. 

Out of the leaves popped a bright, twinkling light, followed by several others. The twinkling lights seemed to be discussing something animatedly, their tiny voices rising in pitch as they neared her. One soon spotted her, and they quickly swarmed over to her. They buzzed quizzically around her, their tinny voices just high enough for her to make out what they were saying.

"What's this?"

"A human!"

"In our circle?"

"How did it get here?"

"Where did it come from?"

"What's its name?"

"You ask!"

"Me? You're the one who wants to know!"

"I am Yvonne," Yvonne introduced herself. "I come from the town of Spielburg."

"Spielburg?"

"No one ever comes here from Spielburg!"

"They're all too scared of the monsters."

"How did you get to our circle?"

"I apologize," Yvonne said. "I did not know this was yours."

"Oh it's all right!"

"You didn't actually get in."

"We'd know. It would smell."

"It always smells when humans enter."

"And it takes days to get the stench out!"

An animated discussion followed on how dreadful it was to clean out the human stench from within the circle of stones. When the discussion subsided, Yvonne remarked, "It must be difficult for you faeries to build these structures." This comment provoked giggling hysterics from the creatures.

"She thinks we're faeries!" one giggled, twinkling merrily.

"We're not faeries!"

"We're pixies!"

"There's a difference."

"I apologize," Yvonne said. "I did not know. What is the difference, if you would be so kind?"

They fluttered about, discussing it among themselves. Finally, one answered, "We're smaller."

"And we can fly without any trouble!"

"And we have dust!"

"Can you fly?"

Yvonne shook her head. "Unfortunately, no."

"That's a shame."

"If you had dust like us, you'd be able to fly too."

"Could you give me some dust?" Yvonne asked, intrigued.

"Give you dust?"

"Why would we want to do that?"

"I am a magic user," Yvonne explained. "I may be able to use it in a magic spell."

"You do magic?" they sounded awed. "You know spells?"

"Some."

"Maybe it can do it!" one exclaimed excitedly.

"You think so?"

"It can do magic."

"What is it you would like me to do?" Yvonne asked, feeling a little irked at being referred to but never directly asked anything. 

The pixies flew over to a large rock on the outskirts of the circle, swarming around it. "See this rock?"

"There's something inside it."

"Erana put it there."

"But we can't open it."

"It can only be opened by a human."

"Erana said so."

"But we're ever so curious about what's inside."

"If you open it for us, we'll give you some dust."

Yvonne went over and inspected the rock, careful not to enter the faery circle. Carved on the surface were magic runes, which read, "If thy will is magic, so shall I share. Open this stone and claim what is there."

Yvonne cast "Open" on the rock, and it lifted from the ground, revealing an old parchment underneath. She picked it up and the stone dropped back into place, the runes fading from the surface. The faeries crowded around her, each vying for a good look at the paper.

"Well?"

"What is it?"

"It's a spell," Yvonne told them, reading it. "It's called 'calm'."

"A spell?" 

"How disappointing."

"I thought it would be more interesting."

"Would you like it?" she held out the parchment to the pixies, having learned the spell.

"No, you can keep it."

"We have no use for spells."

Yvonne placed the parchment in her pack, thinking to sell it to Zara. She took out a leather pouch and opened it. "Will this do for holding your dust?"

"Why should we give you any?" one asked, indignantly.

"I did as you asked. I have completed my side of the bargain."

"She's right."

"We should give her some dust."

"Oh, all right!" They floated in front of her and scraped dust from off their bodies into the bag. "Is that enough?"

"Yes, thank you." Yvonne closed the pouch and put it away. "I must go now."

"Out in the dark?"

"You'd better be careful!"

"You might run into the ogre!"

"Ogre?"

"It guards a cave north of here."

"And there's a bear in the cave."

"But it's not really a bear."

"It looks like a bear."

"But it doesn't smell like a bear."

"What is it, then?" Yvonne asked, feeling she could guess.

"We don't know."

"But the ogre's dangerous!"

"You'd better sleep here."

"I would hate to bother you," Yvonne didn't want to travel the forest at night, but she liked the idea of sleeping on the ground even less.

"No bother!"

"We like company!"

The pixies fluttered about a nearby log and within moments it had transformed into a bed. "See! A human bed!"

Dubiously, Yvonne pressed down upon it. The wood gave, as if it were constructed of soft feathers rather than hard wood. Experimentally, she lay down upon it, and was pleased to find it was quite pleasant to lie upon. "I thank you for your trouble," she yawned, suddenly realizing how sleepy she was.

"No trouble!" The pixies answered in chorus, flitting about her. 

"Sleep well!"

Eyelids heavy, Yvonne was soon fast asleep.

The pixies fluttered about quietly until her breathing became steady. "She's asleep!" 

"Now, the fun begins!"


	10. Chapter 9

SO YOU WANT TO BE A HERO

Chapter 9

Brandon found himself sinking into a black nothingness; a darkness so deep he could see nothing around him. He could see himself, though. His body was glowing, as if it had been imbued with magic. He experimented moving his limbs; moving took a bit of effort, but wasn't impossible. He tried to change his course but nothing he did would allow him to move anywhere but down. So down he went.

After a time, a voice floated to him in the darkness; soft and lilting like sparrows in springtime. He was being carried towards it. As he approached the voice took the shape of another glowing figure, dancing sadly within the darkness. Her voice pierced Brandon's heart; it was a song of sadness, despair, and loneliness. It brought back memories of his father, and for the first time in a long time he felt tears in his eyes. He swallowed them back and called out to the singer. "Hello?"

She stopped singing and glided towards him, face lit up with joy. "Piotyr? Is it you?"

"No."

"Oh." She stopped before him, disappointment crossing her fine features. 

"I'm sorry to have disappointed you."

"No," she shook her head apologetically. "The fault is mine. I shouldn't have presumed. My name is Erana."

Erana. Brandon had heard legends about her from Wolfgang, mostly about how she wove protective magic about the town. The legends had told of how she was half-faery and Brandon could see why. Her hair was the color of orchids, her skin the color of marigolds, and she carried herself with an inhuman grace. But her eyes were deep blue, and she was much taller and bigger than the delicate race of the faeries. Brandon thought she was very beautiful. 

He hadn't realized that he was staring until she cocked her head, smiling amusedly. "You haven't told me your name."

"Brandon. Brandon MacTaggart." He stretched his hand out to touch her but the air before her was like a wall, preventing him to get closer.

"I'm afraid you can't enter," Erana told him. "The barrier is impenetrable, both from without and within." She moved her hands along the invisible barrier to demonstrate, then looked more closely at him. "I apologize for mistaking you for Piotyr. You have the same aura."

Brandon looked at his glowing body. "Yellow?"

Erana laughed, her eyes twinkling merrily. "Something like that."

"Who is Piotyr?"

"A friend." Her smile wavered a bit when she answered. 

Perhaps more than that, Brandon thought. "I'm sorry," he said, not knowing what else to say.

"For what? Coming to visit me? You are the first person I've seen in a long time. How were you able to come here?"

"I don't know," Brandon tried to remember. "I ate some sparkling fruits, then fell asleep."

  
"I created those fruits to replenish magical energy," Erana frowned in thought. "They were meant to revitalize, not make someone sleepy."

"Even someone who isn't a magic-user?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I never offered one to a non-magic user." 

Brandon suddenly had a sinking feeling. "I'm not dead, am I?"

"I don't think so. You have the glow of one living. Which makes it odd that you were able to come here."

"Where is here?"

He suddenly felt cold, his body frozen. Behind Erana he saw a roiling cloud, sparking with blue and red lights, bubbling and boiling with anger and frustration. Two blood red eyes glared at him from within the darkness, darkness that was even deeper than that surrounding him. Brandon shuddered. If Evil could be encompassed in a body, this was the form it would take.

Erana pressed herself closer to the barrier, eyes wide with fear. "You must go! Quickly!"

"But... I can't leave you here!" Brandon pushed at the invisible surface that separated them. There had to be some way to get her out of there!

"You can't stay," she said, smiling sadly at him. "I'll be all right." She began to chant softly and suddenly a breeze began pushing Brandon away from her.

The roiling mass of Evil shrieked as it watched Brandon go, hurling itself with all its might against the barrier. Brandon watched helplessly as Erana waved good bye to him, then turned and was swallowed within the black clouds of the creature.

"No!" Brandon fought the wind, which had grown stronger and was carrying him inexorably towards a bright white light. The light surrounded him, piercing his eyes, yanking him away from her...

"Erana!"

Brandon bolted upright. Panting for breath, he noticed he was in the garden he had fallen asleep in the night before. The sun was shining brightly in the sky. Birds chirped around him as they hopped in the grass, hoping for a morning meal. Everything just as it should be in a morning in the woods. He blinked disbelievingly, feeling the dirt beneath him for comfort. What just happened? Was it all a dream? 

"Bad dream?" 

"I don't..." Brandon stopped as he saw who, or rather what, had asked the question. Beside him was the fox he had saved a couple days ago, regarding him with a cocked head as if waiting for an answer. /Forests of pain and talking foxes. What's next? The rocks getting up and dancing?/

The fox leapt onto his lap, eyes twinkling mischievously. "What's the matter?" it asked. "Cat got your tongue?"

"You can talk," Brandon managed. 

"So can you."

"That's different. Animals don't usually talk to people." 

The fox shrugged, unconcernedly.

"This must be an illusion," Brandon said, looking dubiously at the fruits hanging overhead. "Or another bad dream."

The fox narrowed his eyes, then he nipped Brandon's hand.

"Ow!" So much for illusions. 

"Still think this is an illusion?"

"You didn't have to bite me," Brandon grumbled.

"I had to make sure you believe me. I came on an important mission."

This didn't sound good. "Which is?"

"The Land told me to tell you that it wants you to help it."

"With what?"

"You know Baba Yaga? Ten years she placed a curse on the Baron's daughter, Elsa. Now, Elsa doesn't remember who she is anymore. No wizard, not even Erasmus, can break the spell." The fox absently scratched an ear. "But the nature of things is they always want to be what they are, even if they don't know it. The Land understands this; it's the way things are. And, the Land can break the spell."

"How?"

"The Dryad will tell you."

Brandon shook his head. Oh no, not this again. "Why me? I'm no hero; I'm just a hunter. Hans is a hero. Or, at least, he wants to be. Tell the Dryad to talk to him."

"You don't get it, do you? The Land doesn't want to talk to Hans. It doesn't want to talk to the Sheriff of Spielburg, the Adventurer, the Centaur, or anyone else. It wants to talk to *you*."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the only one that will listen."

"But-"

"No buts!" The fox sighed, then continued patiently, as if dealing with a small stupid child. "You want to know why? You feel the Forest. You listen to the Forest, just like you're listening to me. Anyone else would have tried to skin me by now."

"You sound like Wolfgang," Brandon said. "He seems to think I'm cut out of hero-material. Well, you're both wrong! I'm only a hunter. I don't have any sword skills and I'm too old to learn them. You've got the wrong person."

The fox studied him a moment, then said softly, "Why don't you concentrate on what you can do, instead of what you can't?"

"I'm not a hero," Brandon repeated. Didn't anyone listen to him? 

"What does that matter? I didn't say the Land wanted a hero, I said it wanted *you*." The fox snorted irritatedly. "Why don't you quit whining like a kit and do something productive?"

"Fine, fine." Brandon rubbed his hand across his eyes. "How do I find the Dryad?"

"Just listen. The Land will tell you." The fox nuzzled his cheek, then bounded out of Erana's Peace.

As soon as it had disappeared, Brandon flopped onto his back, staring at the clouds streaking the sky. How did the world get turned all upside down? He was only supposed to come to Spielburg to trade for a couple of weeks, get some new furs, and then set off to Vollenburg. Instead, he found Spielburg nearly barren with no way to get out, and everyone in the entire valley seemed to want his help defeating a curse. Why him? He was certainly no one's idea of a hero, not even his own. Surely Hans would save them all.

But the Land didn't want to talk to Hans, did it? 

Brandon studied his hands, remembering the sharp pain he had felt yesterday. The feeling of despair and hopelessness, the same as the atmosphere that had fallen over the town of Spielburg. 

/Maybe the fox is right,/ Brandon admitted wryly. /I am whining. Maybe it is time I stopped thinking about what I can't do, and what I'm not, and start doing something to help. /

/But first, there are a few things I need to understand. And I think Wolfgang can help me./ 

***

Wolfgang Abenteur sneezed as the seven years of dust that had settled upon his prize dragon head clouded in a last-ditch effort to be rid of him. Cleaning was so much work; it was no wonder he had neglected doing it for so long. Then again, there had never been much reason to clean until now. Now there were four newcomers in town. With that came hope that at least one of them could break the spell and get this old town back on its feet again. So, with newfound resolve, he tackled the cleaning with as much vigor as he had tackled the dragon he was now dusting. "You were a rough one," Wolfgang grinned, proudly polishing the nostrils. "Tracked you for three weeks straight, barely sleeping, and then..."

He was interrupted in his reminiscing by the door opening and young Hans stepping in. "Hey there, lad!" Wolfgang waved from his perch atop the dragon. "How's the heroing coming?"

"Um... good. Really well." The kid looked like he hadn't slept; his eyes were rimmed with red and he was quite pale. Wolfgang knew that look; most young adventurers bore that look at least once. 

"That's good to hear," Wolfgang said, climbing down the ladder. "Have you encountered any of the night creatures, such as the Cheetaur?" he pointed to the fierce looking head mounted on the left wall. "Nasty creature, that. You can't outrun them either. You have to fight them, hold your ground."

Hans nodded, barely looking at the creature.

So much for subtlety. "Anything on your mind, lad?"

"Herr Abenteur... have you ever killed someone?"

Aha, Wolfgang thought. "Sometimes. When I had to."

"I... killed a brigand yesterday."  
  


"Good for you lad."

"No, it wasn't! He just attacked me for asking directions, then I... I..."

"Did what you had to do," Wolfgang finished for him. 

"It... it's not like killing a monster, is it?" The boy was suddenly white. 

"No, lad, it's not. Monsters aren't supposed to think or talk back; they're just supposed to be evil. Humans aren't like that. But sometimes, you have to do what you have to do."

"Even killing someone?"

"If that's what it takes. I'll tell you something, lad. Real heroes do kill people. Sometimes it's their job. But they don't like it. And if there's any other way, they'll find it. But, when it comes down to it and they have no choice, they kill. And with no regrets."

"But..."

"It's hard, I know. But it's all part of being a hero."

Hans nodded. "I didn't know being a hero would be so difficult."

"No one really knows anything until he tries. Thinking of quitting?"

Hans thought for a minute, then vigorously shook his head. "No. I'm going to be a hero, no matter what it takes." He smiled tentatively. "Thanks, Herr Abentuer."

"Anytime, lad."

Hans departed, the swing in his step slowly coming back. Brave lad, Wolfgang thought, smiling. It had been a long time since he had given such pep talks to greenies, especially those dealing with their first kill or failure. At least he was able to do something for Hans. Brandon on the other hand; that kid was more difficult to handle. Arrogance and over self confidence he knew how to deal with; all would-be heroes had to have those in spades. But low-self confidence was something Wolfgang had no experience with. He knew Brandon wanted to help, but the lad was so hell-bent on convincing himself there was nothing he could do that Wolfgang wanted to scream. 

That and Brandon hadn't come back last night, which left Wolfgang very worried. Not that the lad couldn't take care of himself, but creatures like the Cheetaur could be very nasty if they happened upon anyone.

Wolfgang was debating whether or not to send Schultz out to find him when Brandon walked in, looking refreshed and unharmed. "Where have you been, lad?" Wolfgang asked, relieved. "I was worried about you when you didn't come back last night."

"I'm sorry about that. I was chased by a cheetaur and accidentally found 'Erana's Peace.'" Brandon handed Wolfgang a piece of parchment scribbled with trees and arrows.

"Excellent work lad!" Wolfgang placed that piece with the others on the desk. "Soon we'll have a good enough map for all those young tykes who'll be invading once the snow melts. Speaking of tykes, have you met that young would-be hero, Hans?" 

"He was here?" Brandon asked distractedly, attention focused on the notice board on the far wall as if trying to make a decision.

"A couple of times. Brave fellow, that. He'll go far." Wolfgang pressed his lips together, forcing himself to be silent. /Come on, lad,/ he urged, hoping, /I know you've got it in you./

The silence was beginning to grow unbearable when Brandon finally turned back to Wolfgang and asked, almost timidly, "Wolfgang, could you tell me about what happened to the Baron's daughter and son?"

"Change of heart, lad?" Wolfgang tried to keep his features steady, hoping that what he heard was what he had hoped for.

Brandon smiled sheepishly. "Let's just say I've decided to stop thinking about what I can't do, and start doing what I can."

Wolfgang grinned. Finally! "Sit down, lad," he brought up a chair next to his old rocking chair. "It's a long story."

****

Brutus knocked on Leader's office door. He hated coming here, with that stupid warlock giggling in the corner and the minataur towering over him as he tried to speak. Why'd Franz have to go and get himself killed, anyway? It was supposed to be an easy job; kill the budding hero before he got Leader's attention. Then the other brigands would see that Brutus was much better at getting things done than their current leader and it wouldn't be long until *he* was the one giving the orders. Unfortunately, the would-be hero turned out to be competent. 

"Enter," came Leader's voice through the door.

Sure enough, the warlock was sitting in the corner and the minataur was by the door, waiting to hover over Brutus while he talked. Leader was sitting at the desk, her eyes peering intently over her folded gloved hands and beneath her broad-brimmed hat. Brutus assumed his normal place before her desk and tried to ignore the heavy breathing of the minataur behind him. 

"Well?" Leader asked.

Better to get this over with quickly. "Franz is dead."

Leader only raised her head slightly.

"None of us did it," Bruno quickly added. "There's a would-be hero who came a couple of days ago. He's the one that did it."

"A couple of days ago?" the warlock asked in his annoying squeaky voice. "And why weren't we told about this?"

"I didn't think it would interest you," Brutus snapped at him. "They're greenies; they have no idea what they're doing. We thought we'd get 'em out of your hair for you."

"They?" Leader asked. Brutus also hated when she started asking questions. It gave him the feeling that she knew much more than he did, especially the things he wanted to keep secret. 

"Rumor has it there's two of them. Both men. The big tall blonde one is the would-be hero; the other just ended up stranded here."

"What do you know of the other one?"

"He's a thief. Kinda tall, but doesn't look like much trouble. Not for us, anyway."

"I see." Leader silently pondered while the minataur continued to breathe down Brutus' neck. The warlock thankfully remained quiet as well, lips pursed together as if thinking along with their Leader. Finally, Leader snapped her eyes back to Brutus. "How is it you know so much detail?"

Brutus shrugged uncomfortably. "I know people."

"Indeed." Brutus hated when she looked like she knew exactly what he was thinking. It made it very difficult to keep a straight face and not break out into a sweat. The hot breath of the minataur was already dampening his skin. Finally, she leaned back into her chair. "Very well. I'll take care of our would-be hero. Dismissed."

"Aye sir." Slowly Brutus turned around and walked out of the office. He let out a breath of relief once the door had clicked closed behind him. "That went well," he muttered sarcastically. She knew more than she was telling him. And she was getting suspicious. They were going to have to put their plan into action soon.

Cursing Franz for the second time that day, Brutus went to write another note to his partner.

***

Yvonne was vexed. The knots the pixies had left in her hair had taken two hours to untangle, teaching Yvonne an important lesson about trusting pixies. She had planned on getting an early start up to Erasmus' mountain so she would have ample time to play several games of Mage's Master to beat him. Now it was nearing noon and she was just setting out on her way. At this rate, she would be lucky to make it back to the village by sunset. She entertained herself on the walk to Zauberberg by imagining horrible things happening to the pixies. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice the brigands around her until a snapping branch jerked her out of her thoughts.

She managed to narrowly avoid being caught in someone's hands by backing away. There were only two men, both lean and wearing leather armor. She mentally ran through her list of spells, wondering which one would be most useful when someone to her left announced in a squeaky voice, "It will do you no good to run."

Atop a large rock was a small man, dressed garrishly in clashing colors that didn't blend with either his surroundings or his complexion. Yvonne guessed he was the brigand leader's warlock; only a court jester would wear something that hideous. Beside him stood two more brigands, leering at her. "We'd like you to come with us," the warlock continued. "Now, if you please."


	11. Chapter 10

SO YOU WANT TO BE A HERO

Chapter 10

Yvonne schooled her face to an expressionless mask.   Best not to let the warlock realize how anxious she truly was.   She casually inclined her head and asked as haughtily as she could make it, "Do you always invite ladies in this manner?"

"Ah, my apologies." The warlock made a great show of bowing atop his boulder.  "My lady, it would give us great honor if you would accompany us.  And we haven't much time.  He tossed a bag of something at her.  Yvonne quickly cast 'flame dart'.

Whatever was in the bag ignited once in contact with the dart of flame and a ball of fire blossomed in the air.  Yvonne stared at it for a moment, fixated like the brigands around her.  "Get her!" The warlock's screech snapped her out of her daze and she bolted to the right, running straight into a waiting brigand's arms.

"Got her!" he grabbed her arm none too gently and nearly wrenched her off her feet.  No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn't break free of his grip.  Finally, she managed to kick him where her mother had taught her to kick unsavory men.

The brigand doubled over and Yvonne sprinted away.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another bag flying towards her.  It landed on the ground nearby with a loud whomp and a cloud of dust mushroomed out from where it hit.  Although she was on the outskirts of the cloud Yvonne found herself giggling.  Her breath became short and her legs slowed.  /Stop it!/ she scolded herself but she couldn't stop.  Every time she drew breath and tried to force her mouth into a frown a new burst of giggles erupted.  She stumbled and nearly fell to the ground in hysterics at her own behavior. Her mind panicked; what could she do?  What could she do?

"Be calm, my dear.

The voice drifted across her mind like a forgotten memory, jarring her out of her panic.  Calm?  How could she be calm when there were brigands on her tail and she couldn't even draw breath to cast a spell?  A spell.  That was it!  The spell from Erana was called Ôcalm' wasn't it?  She forced her mind to veer away from finding the amusement in everything and spoke the runes of Erana's spell.

Even as she started she felt the need to giggle subside and by the time she had finished speaking her body was her own once more.  A soft sigh beside her snapped her attention back to the present- a brigand was standing not two feet away from her, gazing contentedly at the clouds in the sky.  She heard the high-pitched shriek of the outraged warlock further away.  Only the brigand closest to her seemed affected by the spell; the others were shaking away their lethargy and jogging towards her determinedly. Yvonne ran, just as determined to escape.

She burst out of the forest at the foot of Zauberberg with the brigands and the irate warlock almost on her heels.   As she began to ascend the mountain, nearly stumbling in her haste, one of Erasmus' warning signs popped up in front of her.  Desperately, she grabbed at it, hoping she could at least throw it at the men chasing her.  A white light enveloped her and before she could blink she was plopped down into one of the purple chairs in Erasmus' study.

"Welcome my dear," Erasmus smiled down at her.  She blinked in response, too shocked to say anything.  "I'm afraid I'm going to be a bad host and leave you alone for a bit.  Have some tea and crumpets while I take care of our uninvited guests."  He winked out as a tray of snacks and tea winked in in front of her.

Yvonne didn't realize how tense and scared she truly was until she tried to hold the teacup in her shaking hands.  She dropped it back into the saucer and pressed her hands into her lap to steady them, taking deep breaths to calm herself.  The brigands and their magically incompetent warlock had nearly captured her.  She could still feel the brigand's meaty hand on her wrist and the unyielding strength behind it.  Shuddering, she clutched the fabric of her trousers and mentally repeated the calming exercises her mother had led her through.  /You are a Lady.  Nothing bothers you.  You are a Lady./ Over and over she repeated this until her hands were steady once more.

Once she had composed herself, Erasmus strided into the room, a self-satisfied smile on his face.  "I think that will teach them," he chuckled.

"What did you do?" Yvonne asked.

"Oh, just gave them a demonstration of what REAL magic is."  He winked conspiratorially at her and waved a teacup and saucer over to himself. "Speaking of magic, what does Baba Yaga eat for lunch?"

Yvonne shook her head.

"Sand witches!"  Erasmus gave her a goofy grin, then called out, "Fenrus!"

The rat appeared, comfortably lounging in a bubbly bathtub with a yellow duck floating in it.  "Yes?"

Erasmus blinked.  "What are you doing?"

"Bathing.  I wouldn't want anyone to call me a 'dirty rat'."  His eyes twinkled mischievously.

"No, but they certainly could call  you a smelly one," Erasmus retorted.

"You're just jealous 'cause you didn't think of it first."

"No time for that now.  Do you know where my spell is?"

"And which one would that be?"

"Fenrus!  You know what I mean.  The real show-stopper."

"Ah, yes, I remember." Fenrus momentarily winked out and came back, clean, dressed, and holding a scroll in his tail.    
  
"Thank you." Erasmus held out the spell to Yvonne.  "You might like this one."

"What is it?"  Yvonne asked.

"A spell of my own making.  I call it, "Erasmus' Razzle Dazzle," although it's unfortunately more commonly known as just 'dazzle'. It will blind an enemy long enough for you to make an escape."

"You just 'razzle dazzle' 'em!" Fenrus sang, "and they'll come back for more!"

"Yes, that's generally the idea," Erasmus rolled his eyes.  "Anyway, it will help if those ruffians decide that one dance with magic isn't enough."

Charity.  That's what he was giving her.  He didn't think she could handle being a magic-user with all the spells she had.  Not that she had done such a great job against the brigands, she thought angrily to herself.  "No thank you," she said, coldly.

"Sorry?

"I know why you are giving me the spell.  And I cannot accept it.

Erasmus opened his mouth to say something then thought better of it.  He sipped his tea and asked, "Are  you certain?  It's quite a powerful spell and very useful in all sorts of circumstances.

"Even I'll admit that," Fenrus piped up.

Yvonne clenched her jaw.  It probably would be a good spell, and would be welcome in her arsenal.  But she couldn't take charity.  "Even so, I cannot accept it.

Erasmus leaned back in his chair, studying her.  Yvonne took a sip of tea to cover up her discomfort.  She had refused his spell, perhaps he was reconsidering his offer to back her at WIT.  No, he wouldn't do that, he had promised.

Finally, he spoke.  "If you won't take it willingly, will you trade for it?

"How much?" Yvonne tried not to let the relief show in her voice.

"Not money.  I've no use for money.  Rather, I want you to do something for me.

She froze.  "What?

"My magic mirror.  I lost it a time back.  Find it for me and I'll give you the spell.

Yvonne's heart sank.  The brigand warlock had the mirror.  In order to get it, she would have to face him again.  /You asked for it,/ she told herself bitterly.  She couldn't swallow her pride so she had to take this task on instead.  "Done," she replied.

Wolfgang had told Brandon the entire story; how the Baron's daughter had been carried off by a black thing ten years ago, how the Baronet had disappeared on a hunting mission with the only clue four claw marks on his horse's rump, and how just a few years ago the brigands emerged under the new leader.  With the added descriptions of the brigand leader provided by Shameen, Brandon had drawn some conclusions.  Now all he had to do was find the Dryad to prove himself right.  The only problem was, neither he nor Wolfgang new exactly what the Dryad was.  Wolfgang's only suggestion was to wander about the woods and listen.

Brandon had been 'listening' for two hours and the only things he heard were the usual forest sounds.   Maybe it was time for a different tactic.  Brandon spread his arms out, appealing to the forest around him.  "Hello?  It's me. Where is the Dryad?  Can you show me the way?"  As an afterthought, he added, "please?"

He closed his eyes and strained his ears, but could hear nothing that sounded like directions.  Sighing, he stopped.  "What was I expecting anyway?" he asked himself.  "The trees to suddenly start talking to me?"

The bushes suddenly rustled on his left and from them emerged a handsome stag.  Its fur was as white as snow and his horns gleamed in the sunlight as if they were made of gold.  It was looking at Brandon through deep brown eyes; he had the feeling it was judging him, as if trying to decide if he was worthy.  "Are you the Dryad?"  Brandon asked in an awed whisper.

The stag turned to walk away, then paused, turning its head towards Brandon expectantly.  /I guess it wants me to follow it,/ Brandon thought, starting after it.

The stag led him to a secluded area with an aura that was similar to the one in Erana's Peace.  A tall oak tree stood alone in a circle of grass, surrounded by pines and bushes still capped with snow, its leaves rustling softly though there was no wind.  The stag walked up to the tree, bowed gracefully, then looked at Brandon as if telling him to do the same.  Hesitantly, Brandon walked up to the tree and bowed deeply.  The tree creaked and from its trunk emerged a young woman.  Her hair was scraggled like a bird's nest and her eyes were the same golden color as the stag's antlers.  Her skin was wrinkled and cracked like the bark of the tree, yet she radiated beauty.  She smiled at the stag, which bobbed its head happily, then turned her gaze to Brandon.  "So, you are the Chosen of the forest."

"Uh, yes," Brandon answered.  /I'm talking with a tree.  I don't think anything will be normal again./

"An interesting choice," she said staring intently at him, making him feel uncomfortable.  "Tell me, are you one with the Forest?"

"The forest seems to think so."

"You know of Elsa's disappearance then?"

Brandon nodded.  "She's the brigand leader, isn't she?"

"Perceptive," the dryad smiled approvingly.  "She is under the spell of Baba Yaga.  Elsa knows nothing of her past, not even her name.  Nothing will trigger her memory; the spell over her must be broken.

"So we need a wizard," Brandon murmured.

"No, no wizard can break this spell.  Only a dispel potion will break Baba Yaga's hold over her.  And you will need to make one.  Gather together these ingredients: a golden acorn, a handful of green fur, two flasks full of flying water, and a seed from the spitting sporea plants.  Grind the acorn and seed, then mix them with the other ingredients.  The potion should simmer for a whole day over a fire." She paused, letting him absorb her instructions.  Then, "The potion will only work if it is placed upon bare skin.  You will need to insure that it touches her.

Brandon nodded.  "And the baronet?  Do you know anything about him?

"He too is not what he once was.  But I know nothing more of that." She reached up into her branches and took down a large golden acorn.  "The first of the ingredients I give to you.  The rest you must find on your own.

"Thank you," Brandon bowed as he took the acorn.

"Go now, and fulfill your destiny."

"Destiny?" Brandon snapped his head up, dropping the acorn in the process.  "What do you mean... no, wait, don't go!" It was too late.  The Dryad had retreated back into the oak tree, leaving Brandon to his task.  "Do you know what she meant?" he asked the stag.  Its only answer was a glance at the acorn.  Sighing, he picked it up, then, bowing his thanks, he left the clearing.

"The next ingredient is green fur," he murmured.  "Now where am I going to find an animal with green fur?"

Night had descended upon Spielburg once more, and Alex wound his way back to the tavern and the Theives' Guild.  He ran into Brutus as the thief was coming out.  "Well, well, well, if it isn't the charming young thief," Brutus greeted him, sneering.  Judging from his breath, Alex assumed he had been drinking heavily this night. "Found this place, did you?

"I did.  Thanks for the 'tip,'" Alex said sarcastically.

Brutus ignored the barb and eyed Alex's small bag of loot.  "Your first time out?  Looks like a decent night's work.  For an amateur.

"Oh, I don't know.  I'd say this was a decent night's work for a professional.

"That's 'cause you don't know any better.  Chief's not gonna be impressed with some baubles you stole off an old lady who could sleep through a giant's destroying her house.

Alex's jaw dropped momentarily before he composed himself again.  "How do you know that's where I got the money?

"All beginners steal from her.  She's easy.  You wanna show you're a man, you gotta go for the harder stuff.

"You don't know, you're just guessing.  I could have stolen from anyone in this town, even the Sheriff.

Brutus guffawed, slapping Alex's back so hard he nearly tumbled over.  "You?  Go after Meistersson?  You don't have the guts!  Chief's probably got you so scared you wouldn't go ten miles near that place.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Alex said, coldly.

"Really?" Brutus laughed again.  "Well, if you do have the guts, bring me a souvenir!  He walked off, shaking his head with laughter.

Alex hurried into the tavern and climbed down the ladder to the Thieves' Guild, Brutus' insults ringing in his ears.  How dare the man tell Alex he wasn't a thief!  And to his face!   He pushed his anger down and schooled his face back to its arrogant expression.

 "Didn't think I could do it, did you?" he boasted, plunking his spoils down on the table in front of Boris.

Chief flicked a bored glance at the booty.  "Tally it up, Boris," he said, inspecting a throwing knife.

 Boris appraised the things.  "Fifty silvers," came the answer.

"Well?" Alex grinned.

"Give him his lock picking kit and money," Chief yawned.  Alex seethed inwardly as Boris shuffled to the back of the room.  Could it be that Brutus was right?  That fifty silvers was a paltry amount for a thief to make in one night?  Perhaps it had been too easy, he thought to himself, remembering last night.  Well, there was only one way of proving himself a professional now.

Boris came back with a brand new lock picking kit and gave Alex a thorough introduction to every instrument it contained.  "So, these will pick any lock in town?" Alex mused tauntingly, glancing over at Chief.

"Guaranteed or you get your money back," Boris replied, giving Alex a challenging look that dared him to find anything wrong with the kit.

"Excellent," a slow smile spread across Alex's face.

Chief finally took the bait.  "What are you planning to do?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

"I'm just going to do my job," Alex smiled, stowing it away in one of his many pockets.   He nodded to Boris, then climbed the ladder back up to the tavern.  Tomorrow night he would show them he was a true thief.  Tomorrow night, he would steal from under Sheriff Schultz Meistersson's nose.


	12. Chapter 11

SO YOU WANT TO BE A HERO

Chapter 11

Leader yawned, leaning on the large oak tree just outside the main gates of the town of Spielburg. It was much too early for her liking; she preferred to rise nearer to noon, a time more in tune with her lifestyle. Unfortunately, the budding hero, Hans, was an early riser, which meant she had to be as well if she wanted to catch him.

Despite the early hour, the gates of Spielburg were open wide, welcoming any travelers who would like to stay. There had been precious few of those the past two years and, to add to insult, the last four had been peasants with little to steal. Her brigands were beginning to grow restless; if the situation continued, they would disobey her orders not to attack the people of Spielburg out of sheer boredom. It was time for a move. And to do that, the curse of Baba Yaga had to be lifted.

Yorick, her wizard, had told her of the curse surrounding the town when he had stumbled upon her small band of brigands some years ago. At first, Leader hadn't given it much thought. What did she care that the Baron was cursed by an old ogress with an uncanny ability with magic? She had other worries, mostly dealing with being in control of an unruly band of men who were constantly watching for her to display signs of weakness. If it weren't for Toro or Yorick, she might have been killed a long time ago. She allowed herself a smug smile. Might.

She felt somewhat obligated to at least do something about Baba Yaga for Yorick's sake. Yorick was like a brother to her; a well-meaning pain in the neck whose penchanse for pranks made him unpopular amongst her brigands. Lately he had grown more agitated at her plans to move, and she heard the name Baba Yaga at least once a day. If Baba Yaga was defeated, Yorick would be put at ease, the snows would clear, and she and her brigands would be on their way to more profitable grounds.

She certainly wasn't going to go after Baba Yaga herself; that was a hero's job. Leader had known about Hans' presence long before Bruno had grudgingly told her. Through her own observations as well as observations from her spies, she had put together a portrait of him as a young, inexperienced adventurer whose skills were meager. That he had managed to kill one of her brigands meant that he had some skill with the sword, enough to make him the ideal candidate for getting rid of Baba Yaga. With her help, he could very well succeed.

As if reading her thoughts, Hans emerged from the main gate of Spielburg. /Finally,/ she thought before calling out to him. "Are you the brave young adventurer?"

He turned towards her. "I am Hans Aidendale, soon to be Hero of Spielburg. Who are you?"

"No one of consequence," she answered. "I'm just here to help you in your quest."

"Help me? How?"

"You're looking for Baba Yaga, yes?"

"Yeah."

"She lives to the east of here," Leader pointed. "Her hut usually nests on the rocks near Zauberberg Mountain."

"Gee, thanks!" He broke out into a huge grin that was almost infectious; she had to force herself not to smile with him. "I've been looking for her for ages!"

"That's not all." Leader tossed a bag to him which he caught deftly. "In there is something you'll need in order to get past the guards."

"Guards?"

"The Baron's dead soldiers guard her hut. They won't let you in without some sort of bribe." She nodded her head towards the bag. "That should be sufficient enough."

Hans opened the bag, eyes widening as he saw the glowing gem that was inside. "Are you sure you don't want this? It looks really valuable."

"No price is too high to get rid of Baba Yaga." She truly meant her words; she had enough treasures from the merchants of Shapier to compensate for losing this one.

"Wow, you're really helpful. " Hans beamed at her. Something about the morning light made his hair glow golden as well, and she couldn't help thinking how handsome it made him. "What's your name?"

"I told you, that's not important."

"Yes it is. I want to thank you properly and include you in my speech when I earn the title of Hero of Spielburg."

Leader's mouth quirked into a smile. If only he knew who I really was, she thought. "Thanks for the offer, but fame doesn't matter much to me. I wish you well with Baba Yaga. You will need all your skills to beat her." Leader waved and quickly vanished into the bushes before he could say anything more. After a few stealthy paces, she glanced over her shoulder. Thankfully, Hans wasn't following her. She smiled to herself. He would defeat Baba Yaga, and soon, all of her problems would be solved.

Hans arrived at the gates to Baba Yaga's hut as the sun was nearing midday. The hut itself was a small shack constructed loosely from twigs and hay with an open doorway and a tiny window on one side. Connected to the bottom of the hut was a large pair of chicken legs which were clutching the craggy rocks on the side of the mountain, keeping the hut far off the ground, perhaps to keep Baba Yaga from being disturbed. Not that she needed to go to such elaborate measures; the gate surrounding the area was enough of a deterrent. It was a solid wall of wooden spikes with spear-sharp tips adorned with yellowed skulls.

All but one of the skulls had glowing eyes; Hans shivered as he felt their eyes follow him as he walked around the gate to see if there was some sort of door. No such luck. Perhaps I can break the wood, Hans thought, and drew back his fist for a mighty punch.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?"

Hans froze. "Who's that?"

"Me, bozo. In front... no wait." There was a pregnant pause as if some communication was going on. Then, "To your right."

To Hans' right was the lone skull with no eyes. "Hiya," it said, its jaws clacking as it spoke.

Hans squelched the urge to make a non-heroic scream. "Hello," he squeaked.

"What's a guy like you doing here?"

"I want to see Baba Yaga."

"Baba Yaga? As in talk with her? Are you crazy?"

"I don't want to talk with her. I'm going to kill her." Hans drew his sword for a demonstration.

"Kill her?"

"Yes. I'm going to be a hero."

The skull chuckled. "Well, then, maybe we can make a deal. See the other skulls on the wall? " Hans dutifully looked. "They're Baba Yaga's sentries, so they get glowing eyes. But not me. I'm just the doorknob. Open the gate, shut the gate, open the gate, shut the gate. I'm tellin' ya, I get no respect! You want in, I want eyes. Let's bargain."

"But I can't give you mine. I'm using them."

"Not your eyes, numbskull! Glowing eyes!" The skull sighed. "Find me a glowing gem so I can see. Then, I'll let you in. I'll even tell you the rhyme to get the hut off the mountain."

Hans reached into his pack for the glowing gem, remembering the girl he had met this morning. She had told him the guards would need a bribe, and he was glad he had run in to her. "Here you go," Hans held out the gem.

After a minute, the skull let out another weary sigh. "I don't have eyes and I don't have hands. How the bloody hell am I gonna take the gem?"

"Oh. I didn't think of that. What should I do?"

"Put it in my skull." Its jaws gaped open.

Hans obeyed, barely managing to jerk his hand out of the skull's mouth before it snapped shut.

"I can see!" the skull rejoiced. "I have eyes! I... Yech! Is that what you look like? Well, a bargain's a bargain. To get the hut to come off the mountain, yell, 'hut of brown, now sit down.' And I wouldn't recommend standing inside the gate when you say it either. Good luck!" The four posts holding the skull off the ground sank into the earth, opening the way to Baba Yaga's hut.

Hans grinned. That was easy! He yelled the rhyme from the gate and just as the skull had told him, it leaped off the mountain to settle on the ground. Hans posed heroically, and then went inside.

The interior of Baba Yaga's hut was ghastly, and surprisingly unlike the exterior. Hans expected a tiny room littered with chicken bones and grease, not a cavern with stalactites and stalagmites. An old stone table piled with stoneware was wedged in the right corner nearest the door. A bluish light made everything inside glow, even though the only source of light he could see was a roaring green fire to his right. A cauldron bubbled over the fire while a purple hag that could only be Baba Yaga huddled over it, stirring and cackling. Hans drew himself up to challenge her when she snapped his fingers. He found he couldn't move even a muscle!

"Well, well, well," Baba Yaga scuttled over to him. "What have we here dearies? A Hero! Looks nice and tasty!" She poked and prodded Hans most uncomfortably. He wished she would stop; it was embarrassing. "And just in time for supper! Shall we have Hero sandwiches?" She paused, listening to something in the hut. "No? Something more formal? How about... frog legs fricassee!" She cackled, delightedly smacking her lips and rubbing her gnarled hands together. Then, her face grew more serious and her eyes glowed a deep red as she chanted, "Hear me, oh powers of Klatha and Mana; turn now my guest into species called rana!"

The world around Hans began to spin rapidly and colors pulsated before his eyes until the room became a montage of white, black, and all the grays in-between. He felt his torso grow heavier and his legs bent beneath the weight while his hands flopped onto the ground to help support him. When his vision cleared, Hans found himself staring at the witch's shoe, which had grown to almost his size. Before he could do anything, Baba Yaga picked him up by the hind legs, turning the room upside down. His arms flopped over his head and passed his eyes- he noticed they were green and amphibian looking. He tried moving them to no avail. Baba Yaga carried him over to the cauldron bubbling over the fire, gleefully cackling to herself.

"Hey! Put me down! I'm a hero and I'm supposed to defeat you!" Hans said. Or rather, that's what he would have liked to say; what emerged from his throat sounded more like a series of croaks and ribbits.

"What's that? It's trying to talk!" Baba Yaga brought Hans up to her face. Hans cringed; before, Baba Yaga had been just ugly. Close up, she was hideous. "Did you say something oh-soon-to-be-supper?"

"I am Hans Aidendale, soon-to-be-Hero of Spielburg!" Hans tried to say, but all that came out was a long, "Crooooaaaak!"

"You're the one trying to be a hero, aren't you?" Baba Yaga asked. "Well, a good hero's a dead hero, I always say." She brought him closer to the bubbling liquid of the cauldron. It was extremely hot. He struggled vainly against her grip.

"But, I do have a need for a brave fool," she cackled, bringing him back up to her warty face. "Are you brave?"

"Hans Aidendale laughs in the face of danger!" Hans despaired that his froggy throat wouldn't translate his heroic bravery.

"If you're willing to do me a teensy favor, I might reconsider having you for supper. I need the root of the mandrake that grows in the graveyard. Will you be sweet and fetch me some?"

Hans thought about this. He was supposed to defeat Baba Yaga, not do her favors. Then he remembered the heat of the liquid in the cauldron and 'frog legs fricassee'. "Yes," he croaked, nodding for good measure.

"Excellent!" Hans got a good look at Baba Yaga's yellowed and cracked teeth as she smiled at him. "Know this, young fool, the mandrake root must be plucked precisely at midnight, and you must bring it straight back to me. Understand?"

Hans nodded, or at least made the attempt.

"Good, good, now- what was that?" Baba Yaga cocked her head, listening, as the bat in the corner of the cave chattered something at her. "Oh, yes, the curse! I almost forgot." She turned her gaze back to Hans. "The graveyard is cursed along with the town. Even the dead of Spielburg can have no rest. But I'm sure you don't mind a few zombies and wraiths. Just be sure not to let them touch you, else you become one. Now, off you go!"

In a flash Hans found himself outside the skull gates surrounding Baba Yaga's hut, restored back to his handsome heroic self once more. "Remember the root!" Baba Yaga's voice echoed in his head. "Bring it to me this night or you won't live to see tomorrow!"

/Tonight's the night,/ Alex thought, smirking at himself in the mirror. He had spent most of the afternoon practicing with his new tools and pretty much understood how they all worked. Tonight, he was going to steal something valuable from under Sheriff Meistersson's nose and show it to the Chief. He grinned, imagining the Chief's reaction to his exploits. /Perhaps he'll even make me his second in command,/ Alex thought. Just then, his stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten anything all day. It was still too early to go out, so Alex figured he had some time for a good meal.

There was already someone seated at the table as he came down the stairs. Alex tried to remember who it was, then realized it was the young man he had met the previous day. "Ah, the hero, Hans was it?" Alex greeted him, grinning. "You look down. Anything the matter?"

"I have to go into the graveyard at midnight and get some kind of root," Hans replied, more to his supper than to Alex.

"The graveyard?" Shameen shuddered from his place in front of the fire. "The dead do not sleep in that graveyard. It would be best to look for your root elsewhere."

"It doesn't grow anywhere else, " Hans sighed. "And I have to do it. Maybe I can run in and pull up the root before they can get to me.

"What kind of undead are we talking about here?" Alex asked, taking a seat across from him.

"I think she said something like 'zombies' and 'rayths'."

"Wraiths? You'd be lucky if you took one step in and out again without them touching you. What you need is a talisman that will keep them away from you."

"That would be handy," Hans said. "Do you know where I can get one?"

"I can do better than that." Alex opened his shirt and took a small silver insect on a chain from one of the inner pockets. "Here, you can borrow it for tonight."

"Wow, thanks!" Hans gingerly took it and admired it in the firelight. Though the firelight was a deep orange, the talisman had a faint blue glow surrounding it. "It's beautiful."

"Put it around your neck. Once they sense it, they'll leave you alone."

Hans obeyed, making sure the insect remained outside his tunic. "Thanks again! You've been a real friend!" He stood and posed heroically. "Now, I'd better go get that root! With a flourish of his cape, Hans sped out of the inn."

"I have to give him credit, he's eager," Alex said to Shameen. "It isn't even that late just yet."

"Eagerness is a good quality," Shameen agreed, "when tempered with a little bit of wise caution. Still, seeing him gives me a warm feeling in my heart. I can not help feeling that perhaps the curse of Spielburg will finally be vanquished."

Alex nodded thoughtfully. Maybe Hans would be the one to free Spielburg from its curse. And then, who knows?

Later that night, with a full stomach and roguish intentions, Alex crawled out of his bedroom window and headed for Sheriff Meistersson's house. The lock on the door was easy prey to his new lock picks; Alex had to wonder at the Sheriff's overconfidence and Chief's timidity.

Sheriff Meistersson's house looked quite rich for a mere town sheriff. Gaudy trinkets of all shapes and sizes covered every available table space in the drawing room; Alex wondered whether the taste reflected Meistersson's or his wife's. Stairs at the back of the room presumably led to the bedrooms. A large portrait of Meistersson and his wife hung over the fireplace, which had been banked for the night and emitted a soft glow, illuminating the room for Alex to see what he was doing. Over the portrait hung a stuffed gryphon's head.

He looked around the lavish room, wondering what trinket to take. He certainly wasn't spoiled for choice, but he wanted something truly marvelous. He spotted an intricately decorated box over the mantelpiece. He picked it up and examined it, appreciating the craftsmanship. As he tipped it over to get a look at the bottom, the top fell open and the box began to play a tinny tune. Alex quickly flipped it back over, stopping the music with a loud 'click' that seemed to echo in the entire room.

"Otto!" Meistersson bellowed from upstairs. "Quit playing with the music box and go to bed!"

Alex dropped the music box back on the mantelpiece and dove into the shadows of the stairs in time to see Otto sleepily emerge from his bedroom. Gently, the ogre wound the music box and trundled back off to bed. Alex let out a sigh of relief and emerged from the shadows of the staircase. /I really should be a little more careful,/ he thought to himself.

He picked the music box back up, deciding to use it as proof of his thievery. It really was quite beautiful; the intricate enamelwork reminded him of his mother's collection of knickknacks, although her collection was more tasteful than Meistersson's. He gingerly put it into his pack, careful not to let it open again, and was closing his pack when he heard a startled gasp to his left. There, halfway down the stairs, was Meistersson's wife, eyes wide and hand covering her mouth.

Alex slowly rose, hands out in a placating gesture. "Greetings madam. I know what this looks like, but-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence as she began to scream, "Thief! Thief!"


	13. Chapter 12

SO YOU WANT TO BE A HERO

Chapter 12

"Thief! Thief! Help!" Meistersson's wife screamed, pointing accusingly at Alex. Alex's brain told him he should consider moving, but his legs wouldn't obey.

"Thief?" Meistersson bellowed from his chamber. "Otto, grab him!"

The sight of the towering goon rushing out of his bedchamber convinced Alex's legs to do something. He bolted for the door, yanked it open and slammed it shut behind him, sprinting for the shadows of the surrounding buildings, which were few. He quickly reached the alleyway which lead to the back of the Hero's Tail Inn and flattened himself against the darkest wall.

Minutes later, Otto, in full fury, had caught up to the tavern and started glaring into each of the alleyways surrounding it. Alex held his breath, sinking further into the deep shadows, willing himself to be invisible. /You don't want to come in this alley/ he thought at the goon. /The other one is known to have thieves in it; it's a much better choice./

As if he heard Alex's mental instructions, Otto ran bellowing into the opposite alleyway, arms flinging wildly. Alex took that opportunity to shimmy up the rope he had left hanging from his bedroom window, just in case of emergencies. Once he had ungracefully tumbled into his room, he yanked the rope back into his room and crouched underneath the windowsill, listening intently over the sound of his own heartbeat for the goon's wild bellowing to come closer.

Minutes passed like hours and the night air quickly chilled Alex's sweating body. After a long while, Alex dared to peek out of the window. There was nothing in the alley but the garbage from Shema's kitchen. Alex sank back down to the floor, letting out a breath of relief. Then, he grinned. /I've done it/ he laughed, taking out the jewelry box and inspecting it proudly. /Now we'll show Chief what a real thief truly is./

After he had rushed out of the Hero's Tale Inn, Hans realized that it wasn't even close to midnight yet. He spent the time practicing the moves that the Sword Master had taught him, perfecting his form and burning off the nervousness he felt. The grinning skulls surrounding Baba Yaga's hut had already unsettled him; he wasn't sure about, what did Baba Yaga call them? Wraiths and zombies? Still, a hero had to defeat monsters, no matter what kind.

When the moon had reached its height, Hans headed to the graveyard.

The graveyard was on the outskirts of town, next to the old archery range. All of the headstones looked old and cracked as if all those that were buried in the graveyard had been buried a long time ago. Limping around these headstones were creatures that a long time ago might have been called human. Now, they were an animated conglomeration of rotting flesh and bone with a severe lack of motor skills and brain function. They staggered into the wall, other headstones, and each other. There, in the middle of the graveyard, was a glowing purple plant that Hans hoped was the mandrake root Baba Yaga had told him about. Hans swallowed, gritted his teeth, and set foot into the graveyard.

The instant he entered the creatures turned their heads and began limping towards him, rotted jaws hungrily clacking together. Hans fought the urge to run out of the graveyard and strode boldly over towards the mandrake root, hoping the talisman of Alex's worked. As the creatures came near to him, they suddenly went limp and went back to their aimless staggering. Hans let out a sigh of relief and hurried over to the mandrake root.

It wasn't easy to pull out of the earth. Hans found himself straining to get the root out. Finally, with an eerie scream, it came out of the earth, moving slightly as if it were a living creature. Hans stuffed it into his pack and bolted out of the graveyard towards Baba Yaga's hut.

When he was in Baba Yaga's house, Hans found himself once again frozen and froggy.

"So, the young hero returns!" Baba Yaga cackled. "Did you bring me my root?"

"Yes," Hans croaked.

"Well, where is it? What's the matter­– frog in your throat?" She laughed at her own joke and waved her hands to return Hans back into a human. He still was frozen and helpless as she rummaged through his pack until she found the mandrake root. "Kids we have it!" she held it up triumphantly. "We have the final ingredient for our greatest creation– mandrake mousse!" She paused a moment, cocking her head towards the spider and bat. "We should reward him?" she looked at Hans as if weighing her decision, then sighed reluctantly, "Very well, ex-frog. I'll let you live this time. Next time, it's frog legs for sure!" She snapped her fingers and Hans found himself outside the gates.

"You're alive!" the talking skull greeted him. "You must be really lucky; she must be in a good mood."

"Yeah," Hans bit his lip. He had found Baba Yaga, but all he could do was do her a favor. He couldn't even use his sword against her. "I wish she'd stop turning me into a frog. How can I defeat her if I can't use my sword?"

"A sword's no good against magic," the skull answered, sympathetically. "Believe me, I know. Now, if you had a wizard on your side, that would be a different story."

"A wizard?" Hans drew his brows together, thinking. Didn't he meet a wizard a while back?

The skull groaned. "A wizard! You know, a magic-user? Geez, you are dumb!"

"Magic user," Hans repeated, then grinned as he remembered. Yvonne! She was a magic-user! Maybe she could help him! "Thanks, Mr. Skull!" he grinned and took off for the town.

"That's 'Bonehead'!" the skull yelled after him. "Mr. Skull, my ass. Boy what a dumb kid."

Think he'll succeed? One of the other skulls thought at him, watching the hero depart.

"Who knows?" If Bonehead could shrug, he would have. "I'd give him as much a chance as any of us, really."

I hope he succeeds. Otherwise, he'd be up here with us and we'd have to listen to him forever.

All the skulls made sounds of agreement.

"Well, then," Bonehead grinned. "Good luck, kid. We're rooting for you."

Alex woke the next morning, still feeling triumphant from his successful mission the previous night. The jewelry box was indeed a beautiful prize; the gilding shone in the bright sunlight and the inlaid jewels sparkled merrily, as if congratulating him. Now this was a prize worth bragging about!

As he headed down the stairs, Alex was assaulted by a putrid smell emanating from the kitchen. Hoping that wasn't Shema's idea of breakfast, Alex inched open the kitchen door, instantly regretting it as the intensity of the stench increased tenfold. Luckily it wasn't Shema stirring the pot. "Hey kid," he greeted Brandon, holding a hand to his nose and mouth, "I hate to tell you, but your cooking stinks."

Brandon grimaced. "I didn't think it would smell that bad," he answered, trying to wave some of the odor to the outside door.

"What is it supposed to be?"

"A dispel potion." Brandon stirred it a little with a long spoon. "Elsa, the Baron's daughter, is under a spell that makes her believe that she's the brigand leader. This potion is supposed to break the spell's hold on her. Wolfgang didn't have enough room in his fireplace for the pot, so I thought it wouldn't be too much trouble if I made it here. That was before I learned how great it smells."

"What did the kattas say?"

"Not much, but they have left the inn, along with their friend Abdulla. I think they're regretting letting me do this." Brandon gave Alex a wry smile.

"Hey, if it's all for the betterment of Spielburg, then they can stand a bit of smell."

"Thanks. How are things with you?"

"Going well," Alex grinned at the thought of Chief's indignant face. "In fact, I'd better let you get back to your work." Alex left the kitchen as quickly as he could, stepped outside the inn, and took a deep breath of air. "Ah, fresh air!"

"Enjoy it while you can," a familiar whiny voice sneered.

Alex turned around to see Sneak behind bars in the town jail. "Got caught, did you?" Alex smirked.

"You should be talking about yourself," Sneak growled. "You're the reason I'm in here. Chief's not happy with you."

"What do you mean?"

"Breaking into Meistersson's house. You think you're so clever, don't you," Sneak grinned at Alex's expression. "Everyone knows it was you. You'd better talk to Chief right away if you know what's good for you."

The mood was almost hostile as Alex climbed down into the Thieves' guild; Chief was lounging in his favorite chair fiddling with a nasty-looking dagger. "Sit down," Chief glared at him.

Alex was grabbed from behind and thrown onto a worn looking stool not too far away from Chief's chair. He tried to stand and was shoved back down. "Don't move," Boris growled from behind him in a voice that promised violence if Alex even considered it.

Chief just sat in his chair for a time, casually tossing his dagger, and glaring at Alex. Finally, he said, "I told you to stay away from Meistersson, didn't I?"

"But I-" Alex's protest was stopped by a cuff on the head.

"No 'buts'. I told you to stay away, but you didn't listen." The dagger glinted in the meagre light of the Guild. "You made a mistake. Mistakes don't happen twice." He threw the dagger at Alex.


	14. Chapter 13

SO YOU WANT TO BE A HERO?

Chapter 13

The dagger nicked Alex's ear before thudding into the wall behind him. "However," Chief continued, "I am a very forgiving man." He nodded to Boris who backed away from Alex.

Alex felt his ear, wincing at the sting of pain. "It could have been worse," Chief assured him, relaxing back into his chair. "Not many thieves are as generous as I am. I feel a man should be allowed one mistake in his life- as long as he makes up for it."

"Thanks," Alex murmured hesitantly. His heart was still beating swiftly at his near-brush with death.

Chief shrugged. "Now, before we go into your duties, I want to know why you disobeyed my orders. Arrogant you are, but I didn't figure you for stupid."

Alex's face burned with embarrassment. "Look, if Meistersson wasn't such a bad sheriff—"

"Meistersson's a damn good sheriff. I keep telling you that."

"Then why does he have a Thieves' Guild running in his city right under his very nose?" Alex snapped. "No sheriff worth his merit would allow that!"

"That's where you're wrong. Have you seen any other policemen in this village?"

"I thought they all had left along with the traders."

"Wrong. Meistersson's only ever had Otto. You see, he knows about us; he allows us to function here. We struck a deal with him ten years ago; if he allows us to have a fully operational Thieves' Guild here, we regulate the thieves for him, thus giving him less work to do with the security that his town is safe. Was a real good deal, that."

"Was?" Alex asked.

"Was; until the brigands came. Now with no trade coming into Spielburg, Meistersson's starting to feel impotent. He's starting to question the deal, and when some arrogant pup goes stealing his stuff, he starts to go back on his word. Luckily, he didn't know exactly who it was, so Sneak took the fall for you."

"Willingly?" Alex couldn't help asking.

"Let's say he volunteered," Chief smiled nastily.

"If you knew it was I who stole from him, why didn't you come after me instead?"

"Like I said, I believe everyone deserves to make one mistake, as long as they pay for it. And not like that," Chief said as Alex's hand went back to his ear. "That was just a demonstration. In payment, you're going to do something for me."

"The brigands are getting smarter," Boris explained, moving closer to Chief so Alex could look at him. "Because of them, no new traders are coming into Spielburg and that's not good for any business around here."

"Your job is to take care of them," Chief added. "How you do that is up to you."

"Great. Anything else?"

"You have a week. If you don't succeed in that time, you'll have more to worry about than a nick on your ear."

"Then, I guess I had best go." Alex nodded his head both to Chief and Boris, fighting the urge to feel his ear again. /Sounds like I've got a visit to pay to the young hero/ he thought to himself as he left the room.

When Alex had gone, Boris turned to Chief. "Think we should have told him about Bruno?"

"Nah," Chief waved a dismissing hand. "No point in making it easy for him. Besides, if he's even half as smart as I think he is, he'll figure it out." Chief settled back contentedly in his chair. "Must admit, I'm liking the way things are turning out. If we're lucky, business will be back to normal quite soon."

*****

After a few minutes of frantic- arm waving, the stench of the potion subsided to tolerable levels. /Or, I'm getting used to it,/ Brandon thought. He was surprised at how easy it had been to get the materials. He had discovered creatures called Meeps only ten minute's walk from Erana's Peace. The Meeps were basically walking, talking balls of fur; friendly and willing to give Brandon some of their green fur for the price of an amusing tale. They had also generously given him a piece of parchment that supposedly contained a spell on it. To Brandon, it looked like a blank piece of paper, but he had tucked it away in his belt to ask Zara about it.

Thinking of Zara made him realize how late it was getting, and that her shop wouldn't be open for much longer. If he was going to give it to her today, he was going to have to do it soon. The potion was supposed to simmer for a whole day anyway; getting away from it and out of the kitchen sounded like a good idea.

When he opened the kitchen door, a young woman was standing in the doorway, poised as if she was about to open the door.

"Hi," Brandon smiled at her. "If you're looking for either Shameen or Shema, they're out for the moment. I'm Brandon. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"I had hoped for a meal," the woman replied, looking warily at simmering potion. It was a lovely green color, thanks to the fur. "Are you cooking something?" The tone of her voice told him she hoped it wasn't to be dinner.

"Sort of. It's more like a magic potion."

"Potion? For what purpose?"

"Do you know about Baba Yaga's curse?"

"Intricately." She sounded as if she wished this weren't so.

"Ah. You know about Elsa being the brigand leader then?"

She blinked, mulling it over for a time, then said, "It does make sense. Her court jester, Yorick, is her wizard."

"Yorick?"

"The story I have heard is that he and the princess used to be close. He was like an uncle to her. Thus, when she was taken away, he was determined to find her. It seems as though he has."

Brandon looked at her thoughtfully. "Are you here to be the hero of Spielburg, Miss…?"

"Yvonne, and no, I am not. However, circumstances have forced me to attempt to rid this land of its curse."

"You too, eh?" Brandon gave her a sympathetic smile. "I guess the Dryad wanted more people working on this."

"Dryad?" Yvonne frowned. "No, I-"

Before she could finish her response, the front door swung open, crashing into the wall on the other side and Hans rushed in, grabbing Yvonne's hands. "Yvonne! You can do magic, right?"

"Yes," she answered, blinking in confusion.

"Then, you have to help me with Baba Yaga! Please?"

"Well, I…"

"You've seen Baba Yaga?" Brandon closed the door to the kitchen behind him.

Hans sighed. "Yeah. She turned me into a frog. But, you can battle magic with magic right?" He looked hopefully at Yvonne.

"I don't think I know of any spells that would help," Yvonne said. "Besides, according to the counter-curse…"

"I've been looking for you!" The front door opened again and Alex hurried over to Hans, a big grin on his face. "Have I got a job for you."

"It will have to wait until after I defeat Baba Yaga," Hans replied.

"Baba Whatsa?"

"The ogress who placed the curse on Spielburg," Brandon answered. "I'm surprised you don't know about it."

"This curse is the reason why the brigands are around?"

"I think that's part of it."

"Then, what can I do to help?" Alex clapped his hands and rubbed them together eagerly. "Specifically anything that doesn't require too much fighting."

"You wish to get rid of the brigands?" Yvonne raised an eyebrow at him.

"Would you believe I've started to feel sorry for this poor old town and want to see it put to rights again?"

The expression on Yvonne's face clearly read 'no'.

"This might just work out," Brandon said. "We all seem to know something about this curse. Maybe if we all work together, we can break it."

"The counter curse only mentioned one person," Yvonne shook her head.

"What counter curse?" Brandon asked.

"The thing that is supposed to break Baba Yaga's curse. 'Come a hero from the East, free the man within the beast, save the girl from in the band, drive the villain from the land'. One person."

"Maybe so, but who says that one person has to do everything alone? You know about some counter curse and Yorick, the Dryad came to me to talk about a potion for Elsa, Hans has met BabaYaga; it looks like we all hold pieces to solving this puzzle."

"All except him," Yvonne glared at Alex.

"I know how to find the brigands," Alex said.

"See?" Brandon said. "I think we should all work together."

"I'm with him," Alex said.

"I don't understand everything, but I think that's a good idea," Hans agreed.

Yvonne looked torn. Brandon bit his lip, trying to think of something to persuade her. Debating had never been his strong point, and he had run out of good reasons. Finally, Yvonne nodded. "Very well. We shall work together. For now."

"Good!" Brandon breathed an inward sigh of relief. Now, with these three to help him, he felt as if there was a chance to save Spielburg.

"Let us start by sharing what information we have," Yvonne walked over to the table and sat down. "Coming, gentlemen?"

"What's this thing about the bear again?" Hans asked.

Yvonne stifled a sharp reply. They had been discussing the problem for most of the day, and the light coming through the window was the deep orange of sunset. Shameen and Shema had returned only a short while ago and were busy preparing their young entourage something to eat. To tide them over, Shameen had generously set out a pot of coffee, which all four were slowly draining. Though they had worked out most of the details, Hans was still having trouble understanding the situation. It made her want to shake him until he understood.

"Maybe we'd better sum it up from the beginning," Brandon suggested, rescuing Hans from her wrath.

Yvonne took a deep breath, glad to have Brandon's company. He knew how to quickly deflect a lot of the callous comments from Alex and keep her from losing her temper. "Very well," She took a sip of coffee to regain her composure, then straightened in the manner of one giving a lecture.

"Baba Yaga has placed a curse on the Baron of Spielburg, stating he would lose all that he holds dear. The first thing he lost was his daughter, Elsa von Spielburg, who was taken away by a flying creature none have seen the like of before. Her memory was erased and she ended up joining a band of brigands of which she eventually became leader. Not long after her disappearance, Yorick, the king's jester found her and decided to stay with her, posing as a magic-user." Yvonne glanced discreetly over at Hans. He seemed to be understanding.

"The second thing he lost was his son and heir, Barnard. He disappeared on a hunting mission and only his horse returned, bearing the marks of claws on its rump. From what I was told by the pixies, the baronet is currently a bear off in a cave to the east of here. The pixies also told me that this cave is guarded by an ogre.

"So, in order to set the town of Spielburg free, we must first free the baronet, then his sister, and finally drive Baba Yaga out of the kingdom."

"But how do we get rid of Baba Yaga when she has so much magic?" Hans asked.

"We'll worry about that when we get to that point," Brandon reassured him. "For now, we'll concentrate on the baronet." He turned back to Yvonne. "You said that there is an ogre guarding the cave?"

"From what I've heard, though the information might not be very reliable." Yvonne's scalp prickled at the thought of all those pixies braiding her hair.

"An ogre's easy," Hans said. "I can fight it." He stood, and struck his heroic pose.

"By yourself?" Alex raised a sceptical brow.

"Of course! I'm a hero. I've killed plenty of monsters."

"That will leave us free to tend to the Baronet," Brandon said. "We'll have to figure out some way of changing him back."

"What about that stuff you were making?" Alex waved a hand in the vicinity of the kitchen. "You said it was meant to dispel magic curses."

"I think the Dryad meant for it to be specifically for Elsa," Brandon said. "Besides, we have Yvonne. She's a magic user, I'm sure she'll think of something."

Yvonne felt herself begin to blush. This was the first time that she had heard anyone so confident in her abilities, more confident than she was herself. There was nothing in her collection of spells that would shape-change anything; the scroll Brandon had handed her moments ago was merely a magical detection spell.

She caught Alex smirking at her, and she narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"Not thinking of cheating on me, are you?" he teased.

"I have no relationship with you; I am only working with you out of deference to these two," Yvonne snapped. "Whatever I do is no concern of yours."

"Hey, hey, hey," Brandon waved his arms at them. "No fighting each other. Save it for the ogre."

"But I'm fighting the ogre," Hans said.

"Fighting an ogre?" Shameen said, bringing out steaming plates of a delicious smelling stew. "You will need full stomachs and a good night's rest to succeed in such a mission."

"Precisely," Yvonne said. "I believe we should take our innkeeper's advice and get an early start in the morning."

"Anything you say, darling," Alex said.

Yvonne snapped a glare at him, then proceeded to concentrate fully on her stew. /Look on the bright side/ she told herself. /Once Baba Yaga has been defeated and Spielburg is free, you will be rid of this fool and on your way to becoming a true wizard./ With that comforting thought in mind, she thoroughly enjoyed her soup.


	15. Chapter 14

SO YOU WANT TO BE A HERO?

Chapter 14

The ogre guarding the cave was extremely ugly. It sported a craggy face, protruding jaw, and beady eyes that scanned the forest for movement. It also carried a club nearly the size of Yvonne in its muscular arms and shook the ground at every step. "That is one big ogre," Alex murmured.

Brandon, who hid in the bushes beside him, nodded. "Still, I think we can trust Hans with this."

Alex glanced back at Hans who was stretching his muscles for his fight. The sunlight hit Hans' hair and made it gleam, giving the lad a halo that had Alex almost believing that the young man could actually beat the ogre. "I hope you're right."

They both rose, brushed dirt and bramble off their knees, and tiptoed back to where Hans and Yvonne were waiting. "He's one big ogre," Alex told them in hushed tones. "But he doesn't look like he's going anywhere."

"Ready?" Brandon whispered to Hans.

"Of course!" Hans refused to lower his voice, despite being in the vicinity of a monstrous being. Alex cringed inwardly and found himself looking over his shoulder to see if the monster had actually heard them.

"Remember," Yvonne said in lowered tones. "You need to distract him enough for the rest of us to get through. Then, join us in the cave; he's too big to follow."

"Abandon a battle?" Hans' face scrunched up as he wrestled this unthinkable concept. "That's not very heroic."

"Rescuing the Baronet is," Brandon reminded him. "Once we have him, the ogre's no longer our concern."

"Look, can we just get this over with?" Alex hissed. "The longer we sit here and chit chat, the sooner he discovers that he's not alone here and we'll never get in that cave."

Hans nodded, drew his sword, and tromped out into the clearing. "Ho ogre!" he cried. "Come face the wrath of Hans Aidendale!"

They heard the ogre's bellow, then a crash. Brandon peeked out into the clearing. "They're fighting!" he whispered. "Come on!"

The three of them scurried across the clearing as quickly as they could, skirting a wide berth around the clashing fighters. Before entering the cave, Alex turned to watch Hans in action. Surprisingly, the lad was holding ground against the ogre. If Alex hadn't known better, he would have guessed that Hans was enjoying himself. Alex quickly dismissed the thought, giving the shrill whistle that indicated Hans should follow them, and ducked into the safety of the cave.

It took some time for Yvonne's eyes to become adjusted to the darkness of the cave from the bright light of morning outside. Unlike Henry's cozy cave, this one looked sinister with long, curving stalactites piercing through the low ceiling and stalagmites shooting up through the floor like the jaws of an animal, like a bear. Yvonne shuddered as she recalled the massive teeth in the heads of the bear rugs that lay about her home, and how she and her sisters laughingly stuck their hands into the open mouths, as if the bear could suddenly come back to life and bite their hands off. Even with glazed dead eyes the rugs radiated danger; Yvonne was not keen on meeting one alive.

She was close behind Brandon, who was leading them through an intricate passage between the stalagmites and managing to pass through them quietly and unscathed. Yvonne continued to stumble on the loose pebbles on the ground and occasional cursing behind her told her Alex was not doing much better. She took some comfort in that, and wished that she knew a light spell to better see their surroundings.

There was a stumble of someone sprawling behind her, followed by a loud and long round of cursing. Brandon stopped, and picked his way behind Yvonne to get to Alex. "You okay?"

"I'd be better if we had more light," Alex grumbled. "How are we supposed to see the Baronet if we can't even see our hands in front of our faces?"

"You want light?" a gravely voice cackled. "I'll give you light!"

Yvonne was blinded by a flash of light and instinctively ducked. She heard rock shatter beside her, and the shockwaves pushed her right into a mountain of fur. She heard an animal grunt followed by a heaving upward and a snarl of rage. She had found the Baronet, and he was now extremely angry. Quickly, she began to chant 'calm', and soon the Baronet had dropped to his haunches and was keening.

Not so for the magic-user. He shrieked in delight and launched another volley of light that very nearly hit Brandon and Alex, who were standing nearly motionless and almost as blank as the bear. "What are you doing?" she hissed, motioning for them to get under cover.

"Standing waiting to get hit by magic," Brandon answered, a half-drunk smile on his face. "I'd like to get under cover, but somehow I really can't move quickly."

"What did you do?" Alex asked her in the same tone as Brandon, smoothly sitting on a nearby stalagmite.

That was supposed to calm the bear! Yvonne ground her teeth in frustration. Quickly, she chanted 'flame dart' and peeked round the bear to deliver the bolt. She screamed as the magician's next round of bolts hit her hand, and her spell was deflected uselessly to the ceiling.

"That don't work on me," the magician cackled. "Thinking to rid me of my servant? Baba Yaga warned me of some young pups; good thing I prepared." Another bolt of light struck a stalagmite to Yvonne's right; for once she was glad to have a bear between her and her enemy. "Say bye bye to your friends!"

"No!" Yvonne shrieked, vaulting for Brandon, who was still standing. She knocked him to the floor as a bolt of light smashed into a stalactite behind him.

"What are you doing?" Brandon roughly shoved her off, his voice sounding less calm and more annoyed.

Yvonne gaped disbelievingly at him. "You were about to be hit!"

"I was about to hit him," Brandon waved the bow in his hand in front of her face. "Now don't move!"

Brandon stood again, bow notched. Something silver arced towards him from behind and slashed his right arm. "Alex!" Brandon glowered behind him and ducked as the gleeful magician sent another bolt of light towards them.

"You shouldn't have stood up!" Alex snapped. "I almost had him!" Something silvery arced above them again, this time it flew past the Baronet, nearly hitting it.

"Don't hit the Baronet!" Brandon hissed, ducking as another bolt nearly hit him in his hiding place.

"Sorry! I can't see properly!"

"Stay down," Brandon nocked his bow another time. Quickly, he stood and shot. There was a thunk, followed by a squeal of pain, and Brandon dropped back behind their cover. "I got his arm," he growled. "It'll probably hinder him, but not for long."

Yvonne nodded, stood up, and cast 'Flame Dart' once more. It hit the creature solid in the face, setting it on fire. It danced wildly around the cave, screeching madly, desperately trying to get the flames off its face. There was another silver arc, and another thunk, and the wizard was dead.

"Thanks, Alex," Brandon murmured, then stealthily picked his way over to the kobold's body, knife in hand. Yvonne massaged her injured hand, waiting for Brandon. Although it wasn't bad, casting 'Flame Dart' had angered the wound, shooting sparks of pain down her forearm. It would be a while before she would be able to cast again.

"He's dead," Brandon called, and Yvonne and Alex rose from their hiding places. Yvonne held her nose as the stench of burning kobold hit it.

"Ugh," she grimaced.

"Cast spells much?"

There was an accusatory sound in Alex's voice. Swiftly, Yvonne turned on him. "What exactly do you mean? If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have been able to kill it!"

"I'd have killed it earlier if you hadn't cast that stupid spell that made me contemplate how lovely the shadows on the ceiling were!"

"And what of you nearly hitting the Baronet?" Yvonne struck back. "You would have killed him, and our quest would have been for naught!"

"He shouldn't have gotten in the way!"

"Whoa, guys," Brandon stepped between them. "Come on! The kobold's dead. We have to see to the Baronet first."

"And I would have gotten him earlier if you hadn't stood!" Alex whirled on Brandon.

"I was trying to kill him," Brandon said, his face darkening.

"You weren't doing a very good job then, were you?"

The baronet was completely forgotten.

Hans entered the cave, bloodied with ogre blood and beaming with triumph. The ogre had undoubtedly been a worthy foe, for it swung its club with well-aimed speed. However, it was no match for Hans Aidendale, and he was looking forward to informing his new friends about his victory.

He found his friends in the cave, standing over a smouldering dead creature, yelling at each other at the top of their lungs. There was a bear nearby, sitting on its haunches and Hans got the feeling that it wasn't impressed by the group of people arguing.

"Friends!" he called out. All three whirled about, angry looks on their faces instantly dropping as they saw the gore covering Hans. "You okay?" Brandon immediately climbed over the rocks to see him.

"What are you doing? Arguing isn't very heroic! Aren't we supposed to be helping the Baronet?"

The three of them managed to look chagrined and embarrassed, as well they should have. Brandon walked over to the bear, who sat upright and with a rumbling growl swiped at him with a large forepaw.

"Hey! That's my friend you're trying to kill!"Alex glowered at the bear, which snarled at him.

"He's just hungry," Brandon waved him back, and tossed an apple at the bear. It caught it, and instantly devoured it with three large crunches of its jaw. Hans crouched, ready to spring in and toss Brandon out of the way should the Baronet find that an apple would not satisfy him. He was a little disappointed when Brandon got closer and the bear barely acknowledged him. "He's tied up here," Brandon called out.

Hans and the rest went over to look at what Brandon was pointing at. Clamped tightly around the Baronet's left leg was a silver manacle with a large padlock hanging off it. "It looks like we need the key," Hans said.

Yvonne glanced back at the burning creature. "I don't think we'll be able to get it now."

"Not a problem," Alex smirked, taking some sort of metal instruments out of the lining of his vest. "He'll be out in no time."

True to his word, the lock quickly fell off the bear. As the lock came off, a blinding flash of light filled the cavern, causing Hans to shield his eyes. When he could see again, before them, in the bear's place, was a sour-faced young man with an arrogant air. Hands imperiously on his hips, he surveyed his surroundings, then came to rest his eyes on the mismatched group of heros. "Oh great," he sniffed. "Rescued by peasants and a woman."

Hans' jaw dropped incredulously. He had expected the Baronet to be much more grateful; after all they had saved him from a life of being a bear. Perhaps the Baronet needed to be introduced to his saviors. "I am Hans Aidendale, soon to be hero of Spielburg!" Hans struck his most heroic looking pose and made sure to smile.

"Yes, yes, I know. A peasant."

Hans visibly deflated. This wasn't what it was like in the stories!

"Well?" the Baronet demanded. "Aren't you going to take me home?"

By the time they had reached Spielburg, even Brandon's patience had worn thin. The Baronet insisted on making derogatory comments about everything around him, and Brandon wished that Yvonne had a silence spell in her arsenal. Glancing at her face, she looked like she was wishing the same thing. When they reached the castle gates, the astonished guard at the gate instantly raised the portcullis for them.

They allowed the Baronet to enter first, which he did slowly. Then, he paused in front of the castle, as if remembering it from a dream. The four heroes stood back, allowing the Baronet his space. After all, Brandon thought, he hasn't seen his home for a long time. He must be overwhelmed with joy.

After a pause, the Baronet turned to face them again. "Well?" he demanded. "Aren't you going to take me in?"

Then again, maybe not, Brandon thought as they escorted the Baronet to the castle.

The Baron's castle from the outside looked like a stronghold of defense, but inside, was cluttered and dusty from lack of cleaning. It was as if the Baron was so absorbed with his grief that he couldn't even expend the effort to make his castle look presentable.

The baron himself was the same as the castle; careworn lines riveted his once jovial face, and his eyes peered mournfully from beneath unshaven brows. He slumped in his chair, his cap falling off of his unbrushed hair. As the four heroes walked in, he sat up straighter, nearly dislodging his cap, his knuckles white from gripping the arms of his chair in disbelief. "Is it true?" he rasped, hope springing to his eyes. "My son? Returned?"

The four heroes parted to allow the Baronet to walk into the room.

"Barnard!" The Baron staggered to his feet and walked over to his son, arms reaching out to him. He touched his son's clothing as if to reassure himself that it was real. "You've come back to me!" He gripped his son in a bear hug. Brandon looked away; some moments were meant to be experienced in private.

If the Baronet was touched by his father's performance, he didn't show it. "Father, this is unseemly," he complained.

The Baron ignored his son's complaints, and turned to the four heroes in his hall. "You all have my deepest gratitude," he said, solomnly shaking hands with each of them. "You have brought me back my son, and with him, hope. Fritz! Leiber!" The Baron clapped his hands together sharply, and two servants appeared behind the throne. "Take our young guests to some rooms where they can wash up. Have Astrid take care of the young lady. Tonight, we feast!"

"The baronet has returned."

Brutus looked up from his ledgers to see Leader's annoyed face, Toro behind her. "So?" he asked.

"You knew nothing about this?"

Brutus shook his head. This time, it was the truth.

Leader stared at him measuringly, possibly to see him sweat, then finally said, "I believe you. This time."

"Thanks," Brutus muttered.

"Prepare the boys. We leave tomorrow night, as soon as Bruno returns."

"Tomorrow night?" Brutus shot out of his chair, alarmed. "But why? The roads aren't clear yet, and the hero hasn't taken care of Baba Yaga!"

"He will by tomorrow night," Leader said, confidently. "No one has seen the Baronet for years, and within a week of this hero coming to Spielburg, he is returned. I know the young hero will go after Baba Yaga next, so by tomorrow night, the roads will be clear. And I will be out of Spielburg towards more profitable lands."

"But-!"

"This is an order, Brutus. Or are you incapable of following orders?" Leader's hand moved towards her sword and a smile of anticipation quirked on her lips.

Brutus wasn't going to give her that satisfaction. "I'll make sure they're ready," he said, ducking his head respectfully for good measure.

"Excellent." There was a little disappointment in her voice, but her hand moved away from that blasted sword. "I leave you to it then." She turned her back on him and walked away, Toro following behind.

Brutus cursed inwardly. This would mess up all his plans! He was meeting with Bruno at dawn; he had to think of something, and quickly. /If only there were a way to just kill her.../ He glanced down at the desk and noticed the key to the back door. As he fingered it, a plan started to form in his mind. /Oh, yeah, this'll work. You just watch out, Leader. You won't be having that title for much longer!/


	16. Chapter 15

So You Want to be a Hero

Chapter 15

Dawn. It was the favorite time of day for poets. They could write stanzas upon stanzas praising its glory; the way the rosy color slowly seeped into the sky and illuminated the landscape, the many different shapes the clouds took as they languidly strolled across the sky. After a long night, it was a welcome sight for a thief, meaning that a soft bed was close at hand. It was not a welcome sight for one who had spent the night at a feast and had to wake before it in order to spy on some brigands. Especially when they were late to their own meeting.

Alex stifled a yawn, and tried to control his breathing. It had been a mixed blessing that both 'B ' and 'B' were late. Alex was quite good at sneaking around in houses, with not even staircases creaking underneath his feet. The woods proved to be a different matter. No matter where he placed his feet, there was always a twig that snapped beneath it. /Brandon makes it look so easy,/ Alex thought enviously,. He had settled himself behind a large tree that sported a good view of the archery range. According to the latest note he picked off the tavern floor, 'B' and 'B' were scheduled to meet at dawn today. Alex had a hunch that one 'B' was Bruno, and the other was the brigand he glimpsed a few days ago.

/Has it really been only a few days?/ Alex thought. With everything that had happened, it felt like so much longer. He had found the Thieves Guild, fenced his first stolen property, made some tentative friends, and now had to take care of the brigands. The others were relying on him to find out where the brigands were, thanks to that impulsive boast back at the inn, and he really didn't want to disappoint them.

That thought jerked him out of his languid reverie.

Why was he so concerned about disappointing them? He had reveled in being a disappointment growing up, shirking his responsibilities whenever he could and making life miserable for his grandmother. And now, the opinions of three near-strangers mattered to him? Why?

Before he could think of an answer, 'B' walked out onto the archery field, looking as tired as Alex felt, and glancing about for his partner. Alex grinned in satisfaction. 'B' was the brigand he had spotted Bruno gesturing at earlier. /Which means Bruno should be coming along any minute now./

Sure enough, after a couple of moments, the brigand shouted out "Bruno!" and the huge muscled man made his appearance.

"Brutus," Bruno answered back, yawning.

"You're late," Brutus accused. Alex stifled a snort. /You're one to talk!/

"Yeah, yeah," Bruno said, unconcernedly. "So, why'd you need to meet so badly?"

"The Baronet has returned to the palace."

"So? What's that got to do with us?"

"Everything! The curse is almost lifted. Once those roads open up, Leader plans on getting out of here. If we're going to take over, we're going to have to do it now, while we've still got a chance."

"I take it you've got a plan?" Bruno yawned again.

"I do," Brutus smiled wickedly. "First, you go back to the hideout. If one of the heroes sees you, even better. The boys are set up in an ambush at the front door. The minute they see one of those goody-two-shoes, they fire."

"What about you?"

"I'm going through the back door. It leads directly to Leader's room," Brutus held out a key. "She'll still be asleep this time of day. I'll unlock her room door, and you go in and kill her while she's still asleep."

"Why don't I go through the back door if I'm gonna kill her?"

"You don't even know where it is."

"It's to the west with the bouncer guarding it," Bruno smirked.

"Yeah, and can you get past Toro?"

"I can handle anybody that comes my way."

"You kill Toro, she's going to wake up. Toro knows me; he'll let me by."

"He trusts you?"

"He'll let me by," Brutus scowled at Bruno. "I'm the one in charge here, so quit questioning me and follow orders!"

Alex could feel the tension in the air as the two brigands glared at one another in a battle of wills. Bruno towered over Brutus; Alex was certain that should it come to blows, Bruno would win. Surprisingly, Bruno was the first to look away. "Fine, fine, have it your way," he said. There was a dangerous spark in his eye, and Alex was certain that should their plan go smoothly Brutus was not going to be the one in charge. At least, not for very long.

Brutus seemed unaware of this. "Good. You'd better hurry. She's been waking up earlier these days. Unless you want to fight her." Brutus sounded eager at this last one.

"Nah," Bruno said. "I'll get going then. When will you unlock that door?"

"In a couple of hours," Brutus said. "That'll give us enough time to get into position."

"Right." Bruno nodded, then strode off.

Brutus stayed at the archery range watching him depart. Alex tried to think quickly of a plan. Once Brutus entered the Bandit cave, it would be over for Elsa. It would take him too long to run to the palace and wake the others; he needed to follow Brutus by himself. But then what? He didn't have the potion, and he couldn't leave to get it. He bit his lip, wishing he had some of Shameen's coffee to wake his groggy brain up and absentmindedly shifted position. A twig snapped underneath his foot.

Damn!

Brutus had whip-like reflexes. Alex instinctively flung a dagger towards Brutus and dove for another tree. He heard a thunk beside him and saw a nasty looking dagger protruding from the tree that had originally been his hiding place. Alex held two more daggers in hand, and strained to hear footsteps coming towards his new hiding place. For many tense moments, all he could hear was the sound of his thundering heart and the calls of early morning birds. Alex cursed all people who could move softly in nature, praying he'd catch a glimpse of Brutus before the brigand could get him. He slowly peered around the trunk of the tree, ready to spring back behind his shelter at the sight of any movement.

Brutus was lying in the middle of the archery field, seemingly dead. Alex slowly crept towards the body, ready to throw another dagger at the sign of slightest twitch. There was no need; Alex's first dagger had gone straight into Brutus' head.

/I must be really lucky,/ Alex thought.

There was no more time for any other thoughts. Quickly, Alex searched the body and found the key to the back door, reflexively pocketing the coins that Brutus had on him. He then sprinted back to the castle, hoping his luck held as he was going to need it to convince his companions about the brigands.

"You lied to us." Yvonne's voice was low and quiet, but behind it was pure venom, and her stare could easily kill.

Alex flinched a little under that stare. His confession was not going very well, to put it mildly. He had always been very good at talking or charming his way out of bad situations, but that wasn't happening here. He had known Yvonne was resistant to his charms, but when Hans found out he was a thief, the young hero didn't trust him either. Brandon, he still wasn't sure about. The kid had been quiet ever since Alex started clumsily explaining himself, and Alex couldn't read the expression on his face. That had him worried. He wasn't sure what he was going to do if Brandon didn't trust him. He had to make a more concentrated effort to win him over. "It was for a good reason," Alex smiled winningly at Yvonne, trying to think quickly. "I was able to help you with the baronet, wasn't I?"

"There's not any good reason for lying," Hans said, stubbornly. "My mother always said you need to tell the truth. Only bad guys lie."

"Not all thieves are bad guys, " Alex replied. "But that's beside the point. Elsa's going to get killed unless we go, now, and stop Bruno."

"And how do we know this is not an ambush?" Yvonne asked. "That you are not in league with these brigands and are going to bring us to our death?"

"You're just going to have to trust me," Alex said. "I know that's a lot, but Elsa doesn't have time!"

"Why do you care about Elsa?" Brandon asked, suddenly.

Alex opened his mouth to answer, then paused. Why did he care about Elsa? He honestly didn't know, just like he didn't know why he was allowing himself to get so involved in helping these three. They wanted to be the heroes, he should have stayed out of it. Hans could have killed the brigands long before Chief's warning, and he'd be free. He could do it now; just throw his hands up, refuse to get involved any longer and let them take care of it all.

Instead, he heard himself say, "Look, we're here to save Spielburg, right? That's not going to happen if she's dead. I may be a thief, but I'm not a murderer!"

The thoughtful look Brandon gave him was almost worse than Yvonne's glare. Before Alex could think of something else to say, Brandon said, "I'll go with you. We'd better hurry."

"You trust him?" Yvonne snapped, her cold stare transferred over to him. "He could be leading you into a trap!" Alex hated to admit it, but he agreed with her. He was completely untrustworthy, and his arguments wouldn't have convinced even himself.

"He could, but I doubt he is."

"How?"

Brandon shrugged. "I don't think he'd come back and tell us the truth if he were lying." He faced Alex. "We'll have to hurry. The potion should be ready by now."

Alex was dumbfounded for a second. He almost asked Brandon 'why' himself. Then again, he didn't really want to know right now. "Right. Let's go then."

"I'll come too!" Hans jumped up. "I'm not going to let Elsa die."

"Then I will also come," Yvonne stood.

Brandon smiled his thanks at both of them. "We should hurry."

As they walked out, Alex avoided looking at Brandon. He wasn't sure why, but Brandon made him very nervous, and he had to figure out how to handle this. "You had better be right." Yvonne had fallen back to speak with Alex. "If I see even one hint that you've betrayed us..." she let the threat trail off.

Alex grinned rakishly at her. This was familiar ground. "And here I thought you just wanted to look at my handsome face a little more," he said.

"Do not push your luck." Yvonne pointedly ignored him and started walking faster.

"And we're back to where we started," Alex sighed. "Good enough."

"It certainly bounces," Hans said, admiringly.

The 'bouncer' Bruno had mentioned turned out to be an Antwerp, which was bouncing happily in front of a cliff. The Laird of Dunnovan had domesticated a few for his private use as guardians. They were good guards as long as you suspected the evil-doer would try and provoke the antwerp. They killed anyone who angered them easily, but wouldn't harm anyone who left them alone. Brandon had insisted dogs were better, but dogs were more expensive to keep and less exotic. And what the Laird of Dunnovan wanted, the Laird of Dunnovan got.

"You okay kid?"

Brandon turned towards Alex, who was looking a little worried. "Of course. Why?"

"You're looking annoyed, as if a bee stung you or something."

"Oh, it's nothing. Just hoping this works," Brandon held up the dispel potion and smiled reassuringly. He hadn't realized just how angry he was at the Laird of Dunnovan until now.

"If you followed the instructions correctly, it should," Yvonne said, confidently. Brandon was grateful that Yvonne had decided to come with them, despite not trusting Alex. It was she who insisted they come up with a plan, after the disastrous fight they had with the magical creature, and the plan was all her idea. It was quite good despite including the calm spell, which both he and Alex were dubious about, and they had all agreed to it. His main part was keeping an eye on Alex and making sure the potion hit Elsa. He wanted to give the skein to Alex, who had much better throwing skills, but Yvonne would have none of it. He just hoped that he didn't miss.

A breeze wafted along Brandon's hand, as if echoing Yvonne's reassurance. Brandon almost chuckled; he was getting very used to this forest that spoke to him and would almost be sad to leave it behind. "We'd better get moving," he said.

Alex nodded then walked right past the antwerp to the cliff face, searching for the keyhole. Brandon could see Hans' disappointment as the antwerp merrily ignored them, continuing to bounce in one place. Brandon felt a little sorry for him. Yvonne's plan was stealth-based; they were to sneak in, splash Elsa, and get out. Unless they were discovered by the brigands, Hans wouldn't be doing any fighting. Even though Hans had agreed to it, Brandon wished that there was a bit more the young fighter could do.

"Look at that," Alex whistled as the cliff face swung open to reveal a dark cave, much like the one they had been in yesterday. "So far, Brutus was telling the truth."

"As were you," Yvonne said, pointedly.

Alex merely grinned and waved her inside. "Ladies first."

She snapped a glare at him before entering the cave. Alex followed behind, then Brandon, with Hans at the rear.

This cavern was much different than the one that had caged the baronet. When his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Brandon noticed that the cavern was gently lit by a red fungus that lined the walls rendering the torches they brought with them useless. Although there were plenty of stalactites and stalagmites, a well worn pathway snaked through them, leading to another cave that looked to be even more brightly lit than this one. As they approached the new cave, Brandon kept his hand close to the dispel potion. If they encountered Elsa at any time, he had to be ready.

The new cave was brightly lit by sunlight streaming down from a hole in the ceiling. A few shrubs clamored towards the light, and flowers were planted along the edges as if someone had wanted a nice garden. To their left towered a wooden door lined with spikes, and before that paced a fierce looking creature that Brandon guessed was the minataur. It muttered occasionally to itself as it paced, feeling put upon. Yvonne indicated she would crawl closer, and Brandon nodded to her, keeping a close watch on the creature. She was not as silent as he could be, and stumbled on some rocks. The minataur instantly jerked his head up, and growled, "Who there?"

Brandon swiftly crawled closer as Yvonne chanted, and felt the soothing quality of her spell start to surround him. He watched the creature yawn, then it sat softly down, it's head lolling back as it let out big snores. "That went well," Yvonne said, smiling proudly at her handiwork.

Brandon barely noticed; he was fighting the same lethargy himself. His eyelids felt as though weights were on them, and his movements were sluggish. The rays streaming through the ceiling created myriad rainbows that danced enticingly before him. He reached out to touch one, feeling a happiness trickle through him that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"We must move quickly!" Yvonne's voice sounded muted, as though a large cloak were covering his ears. Brandon concentrated on trying to move one foot in front of the other, but it was like swimming through a lake full of mud. Hearing Yvonne's voice behind him told him that Alex and Hans were doing about as well as he was.

He was halfway to the door when it suddenly swung open and a funny looking man with harlequin colored robes stepped into the cave, humming a familiar melody off-tune. He started when he saw the sleeping minataur and jerked his attention to the young heroes, all trapped within Yvonne's calm spell. "The warlock!" Brandon heard Yvonne say. They had been discovered.


	17. Chapter 16

So You Want To Be A Hero?

Chapter 16

Yvonne wasted no time. She quickly raised her hands and shot a flame dart at the warlock. His eyes bulged, and he barely dodged her dart in time. She murmured and threw another one at him, which he was able to dodge again. He had remarkable agility, perhaps to be expected given that he was a jester. "Wait! Wait!" he cried, flailing his arms in a surrender gesture. "I just want to talk! Please!"

"Talk?" Yvonne glowered. "I think not!" She murmured more quickly, but a hand brought her arm gently down. She whirled to face the intruder, other hand poised to have a flame dart go off in his face. Had it been Alex, she would not have hesitated. But it was Brandon, and she stopped. "What are you doing?" she asked, cold anger in her voice.

"I think we should hear him out." From the tone of his voice, Yvonne knew the calm spell had dissipated, though he still sounded reasonable.

"We can't trust him! He will just capture us and place us in a cage, and then we will never get to Elsa!"

"No, no, no!" Yorick protested. "Please! I only want to help Elsa. I promise, I won't do anything to you."

"He tried to kidnap me!" Yvonne insisted. "And he is trying to do it again!"

"I won't let him harm you. I promise."

"Yeah, me either," Alex said, fingers near where his throwing knives were kept.

"Hans Aidendale always protects his friends!" Hans affirmed, walking in front of Yvonne and assuming a defensive posture.

Yvonne was speechless. Would they really protect her? Her brain was screaming not to trust them. They were men, after all, and she certainly didn't trust Yorick. It would be easy to fling another Flame dart at him. She warred with herself, and finally lowered her arms. "Very well," she said, jerking her arm away from Brandon's touch. "But one hint of betrayal..."

"No, no betrayal," Yorick said. He stepped closer, but at the looks on the faces of the young heroes, thought better of it, and remained where he was. "I only tried to kidnap you before because you are a true magic user. I thought you might be able to break the spell on Elsa, and I needed your help quickly. But I shouldn't have done that. I apologize."

"You should not have," Yvonne agreed.

Yorick sighed wearily. "All I can say is I'm sorry."

"Why do you want to help us?" Brandon interrupted.

"I've always wanted to help Elsa!" Yorick explained. "Ever since I found her with the brigands, I've done all I can to make her remember who she was. I even borrowed a magic mirror from Erasmus to see if it could break the spell. But it's only good when the spell is thrown at you, not when the spell is already cast. When I learned that there was a true magic user around, I, well you know what happened."

Beside him, the minataur began to stir. Yvonne began to ready the calm spell as it slowly realized there were strangers in the cave. "Intruders!" it bellowed, rising angrily to its feet.

"No, Toro!" Yorick jumped in front of it before Yvonne could begin casting. "They're the heroes. They're here to help Elsa!"

Toro glowered at the four heroes. "You help Elsa?"

"We're going to try," Brandon told him. "We have a dispel potion that should break the spell on her."

"Excellent!" Yorick grinned as Toro reluctantly stepped back. "I knew you four would be the ones to save her ever since I heard of the baronet!"

"News travels fast," Alex murmured appreciatively.

"We need to hurry," Brandon said. "A couple of your brigands are plotting to kill her, and if we don't reach her soon, they just might succeed."

"A couple?" Yorick frowned. "Who?

"You know Brutus and Bruno?" Alex asked.

"Brutus-man!" Toro growled.

Yorick shook his head. "I knew he was plotting something. I didn't realize he had taken Bruno into his confidence. No wonder Bruno showed up this morning."

"You don't have to worry about Brutus any longer," Alex smirked.

"But Bruno coming back can only mean trouble," Yorick opened the door behind him. "Quickly, follow me. Toro, make sure Bruno does not get through!"

Yvonne pulled Brandon aside while Hans and Alex followed Yorick. "This may be a trap," she cautioned.

"I know. But what choice do we have?" Brandon shrugged.

"I will keep an eye on him, then."

"You don't trust anyone, do you?"

"Trust must be earned," Yvonne bristled.

"Do you trust me?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"You came with us, even though you don't like Alex."

"I- don't know," Yvonne frowned, confusedly. She truly shouldn't trust Brandon; she barely knew him. Yet here she was, following him into the brigand fortress, willingly being led by the same warlock that tried to kidnap her. It made no sense.

"Well, I'm glad you're here anyway," he smiled at her.

"We should go," Yvonne quickened her steps to follow Alex and Hans, not wanting to let Brandon see the blush forming on her cheeks. She had to concentrate on the mission; watching both Alex and Yorick. Brandon trusted people too readily; she wanted to make sure that wasn't his downfall. Not that she liked him, but he seemed like such a nice person it would be a shame for someone to take advantage of that naivete'. Dark thoughts threatened to cloud her mind again and she brushed them away. No, trusting people too quickly lead only to danger. She knew that all too well.

The way to Elsa's room was not a straight path. There were many little traps set to hinder anyone daring to sneak up on the brigand leader, which Yorick pointed out to them at every turn. Hans was glad they had accepted his help, though he disliked all this sneaking around. First, they were to sneak past the minataur, and now sneak into Elsa's room. Heroes didn't sneak in any of the stories, and Hans would rather have faced all the brigands head on. After all, weren't tales made of thousand to one odds? He was confident he could have defeated all the brigands at the front door, and regretted letting Brandon and Yvonne talk him into this plan. But they were much smarter than he was, and he did like their company. He hoped that he would get a chance to do something more heroic soon.

After what seemed like ages, they finally reached another cavern with three identical doors standing in a row. Yorick walked up to one of them and placed a finger over his lips. "This is Elsa's room."

"What's this one?" Hans pointed to the door closest to him.

"A trap."

Hans quickly stepped away from the door. "Are they all traps?" Alex asked.

Yorick nodded, then opened the door to Elsa's room. He peeked in, then turned back to the four heroes in horror. "She isn't here!"

"Where could she have gone?" Brandon asked.

The room next to Hans suddenly burst open, and a sword swiftly flew towards his heart. Instinctively he parried it, and found himself facing a furious Elsa. "So, you're trying to finish me off in my lair?" she snarled, forcing him back with a flurry of expert swordsmanship.

"No, Elsa!" Yorick cried. Hans didn't have time to pay attention to whatever else he said; all his concentration was spent on keeping out of the way of Elsa's sword. She was extremely quick, but there was something hauntingly familiar about her movements. Hans found he could read her quickly and easily held her back. He saw anger glint in her eyes at how easily he was deflecting her assault and hoped that the others could change her back soon.

He saw something soaring towards him from the corner of his eye and ducked. Elsa, surprised, was smacked in the face with a leather pouch. The contents of the pouch squirted onto her forehead, which made her pause as she tried to wipe water from her eyes with her non sword hand. Hans backed up a step, but stood ready in case the potion didn't work, panting and trying to recover his breath. He hoped it would; killing the person he was supposed to be rescuing wasn't heroic, and he wasn't sure he could hold her off much longer.

"Elsa?" Yorick approached cautiously.

"It's all right, Yorick," Elsa sheathed her sword. "I remember everything now." She stood straighter, as if she were royalty issuing a command. "I am Elsa Von Spielburg, rightful daughter to Baron Steffan Von Spielburg. Former Brigand leader."

Hans breathed a sigh of relief as he put his sword away, and the rest of his companions grinned. "It worked!" Yorick cried, joyfully embracing Elsa. She smiled and hugged him back. Hans noticed then just how lovely she was, even in dirty leather armor.

"I hate to spoil your reunion," Alex interrupted, "but you're going to have a revolt on your hands soon."

"Brutus!" Elsa spat. "It is him, isn't it."

"Was him. He's dead now."

"Good, although I wish I could have done it myself." Elsa confidently looked at the four heroes before her. "So you are the saviors of Spielburg? Him-" she gestured towards Hans, "I would have guessed. The rest of you are surprising."

"Brutus was going to have Bruno slay you in your sleep," Brandon said, ignoring that last comment.

"Which is why I was not in my bed. I thought he was planning something last night. I had hoped to catch him at it." She sighed. "The brigands are restless. I heard Bruno come back to rally them. We must act quickly."

"We?" Yvonne asked. "You are the one that banded these brigands together."

"And I am the one who will tear them apart," Elsa said. "This was my responsibility and my doing. How many guards does my father have available?" She looked straight at Hans, who could only shrug. He hadn't paid any attention to the guards.

"He looked to still have about a hundred," Alex said. "At least, those were the ones doing guard duty throughout the palace."

"Then he still hadn't given up everything," Elsa nodded in approval. "Excellent. With half that number, and four heroes by my side, these brigands will no longer be a thorn in my father's side."

Hans grinned. Now this was more like it! He assumed his heroic pose, and said, "Let's go!"

"You'll have to do without four heroes," Brandon told Elsa.

"Why?" Elsa glowered at him. Hans deflated again. Was this always going to happen to him?

"We have Baba Yaga to deal with," Brandon said. "And it would be better to deal with her now, while she's unaware that we've broken her spell over you."

"A surprise attack," Alex clapped his hands together. "I like it."

"Can't Yvonne just do it?" Hans asked. He was not looking forward to facing that witch again.

"She doesn't know Yvonne exists yet," Brandon said. "You'll need to go in there."

"By myself?" Hans was liking this idea even less. "But she'll just turn me into a frog again!"

"Not this time," Yvonne said. "I have an idea. Yorick, where is the mirror you borrowed from Henry?"

"Right here," Yorick fished it out from his voluminous trousers.

"Excellent," Yvonne grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I think we'll be able to feed Baba Yaga her own medicine!"

It was the third time in as many days that Hans stood outside Baba Yaga's creepy hut. Although the décor no longer frightened him, the magic user still made him nervous. "Are you sure there's no other way?" Hans asked. Elsa would be attacking the brigand fortress right now, and he would much rather be there than dealing with Baba Yaga, especially with magic. Magic was the realm of intelligent people, like Yvonne. He was a warrior. And having a mirror as his weapon instead of a sword made him feel uncomfortable, even if that mirror was a magic one.

"Don't worry," Yvonne told him confidently. "It will work."

"And if it doesn't, we'll be right out here," Alex added.

"Don't tell him that!" Yvonne hissed at him. "You'll only undermine his confidence!"

"He'll be fine! He's got plenty of confidence!"

"Ready?" Brandon asked him as Yvonne and Alex continued to argue.

"A hero never backs down from a challenge!" Hans squared his shoulders with confidence he did not feel and approached the gate.

"You again?" Bonehead clacked at him. "Haven't you had enough torture for one lifetime?"

"I'm going to defeat Baba Yaga," Hans said. "Let me pass."

"Sure thing," Bonehead chuckled. "Let me know if I can give you a hand."

"Thank you. That's very nice of you."

"It was a joke, kid. Hand, skull?" Bonehead sighed at Hans' confused face. "Never mind. Go on in."

The gate lowered, and after he repeated the rhyme, the house lowered as well. Hans gulped, gripped the mirror, and went inside.

"Back for more, eh young hero?" Baba Yaga chortled and raised her arms for what Hans knew was going to be the spell.

Hans quickly raised the magic mirror and closed his eyes, hoping for the best. He could see the lightning flash about him, even with his closed eyelids, and he heard the witch scream. The scream transformed into a gargle and finally died down into a croak as the lights subsided. Hans cracked open an eyelid. On the floor before him was a hideous toad. Hans grinned. It had worked! "Baba Yaga, you have been- whoa!" Hans lurched as the floor beneath him suddenly rose as Baba Yaga began croaking and hopping about vigorously. He tumbled out of the hut, and watched dumbfounded as it flew off, the skulls and fence trailing after it.

"What happened?" Brandon asked, as his three friends ran up to him.

"It worked!" Hans picked himself up, dusted himself off, and resumed his heroic pose. "Baba Yaga! You have been defeated by Hans Aidendale, Yvonne Delacroix, Alex er-, what was your last name again?" he turned to Alex.

"Smith," Alex said after a slight pause. Yvonne shot a suspicious look at him, which he ignored.

Hans resumed, "Alex Smith, and Brandon McTaggart! Heroes of Spielburg!"


	18. Epilogue

So You Want to be a Hero?

Epilogue

Castle Spielburg was resplendent with joyous banners of the Baron's heraldry, and all the citizens of Spielburg had gathered in the grand hall to celebrate not only the return of the Baronet and Elsa, but also the rousting of the brigands and the defeat of Baba Yaga. Elsa had captured all the brigands but Bruno in her raid, and returned the riches to their rightful owners. Hans, Yvonne, Alex, and Brandon had been declared Heroes of Spielburg with as much pomp as the Baron could give, and everyone was drinking, eating, and being merry. Hans was happy to share his accolades with his new friends, for without them, he wouldn't have been able to defeat Baba Yaga.

Hans was enjoying a rousing conversation with Elsa about differing sword techniques when Abdulla wandered over, merrily hugged him and drunkenly lifted him off the floor. "Thank you, thank you, many times thank you!" Abdulla said, for the fifth time, heartily pounding on Hans' back. "My fortunes are restored, thanks to you and your friends, and I can finally leave this accursed place with its bitter cold!"

"I'm glad I could help," Hans managed to get out between thumps.

"There he is!" a familiar voice called out. Hans saw Alex, Brandon, Yvonne, Shameen, Shema, and an old man wearing funnier looking robes than Yorick head his way.

"So you're the young fighter!" The old man held out a hand which Hans took. "Uf. Very strong, indeed. I am the wizard Erasmus. Do you know the difference between a comma and a chetaur?"

"Now that you have us all gathered together," Yvonne interrupted, a weary look on her face, "would you be so kind as to tell us why you needed us all?"

"Ah yes, straight to the point as ever, my dear," Erasmus sighed. To Hans, he asked, "How would you like to visit the land of Shapeir?"

"Shape-ir?" Hans blinked. He'd heard the name before, but just where, he couldn't recall.

"Our wonderful home in the desert!" Abdulla answered. "It is much more marvelous and full of wonders than this cold green town. Just think! No more sneezing from all the flowers everywhere!" As if to demonstrate, Abdulla let out a loud sneeze.

"Why would I want to go there?" Hans asked.

"Yes," Yvonne said sharply. "Surely not all of them need to go."

"I'd go, merely to keep you company," Alex grinned at her.

"That is not necessary."

"But you all must come!" Shameen insisted. "For how else can we repay your kindness? You must stay at the Katta's Tail Inn."

"The finest in all Shapeir!" Abdulla nodded.

"And I shall dance for you," Shema smiled.

"And my lifemate's dance is not one to be missed, for she outshines even the palace gardens themselves," Shameen said.

"Shameen! Please!" If kattas could blush, Shema would have been doing so.

"And there are many exotic beasts in the desert that need defeating," Erasmus added.

"Then, let's go!" Hans grinned, remembering all the stuffed heads decorating the Adventurers' guild walls. Perhaps he could do the same for the one in Shapeir!

"But, my furs," Brandon protested. "If I go to Shapeir..."

"The finest trading city in the east will be yours to trade in," Erasmus concluded for him. "Besides, now that you have the reward from the Baron, you don't need to go back to your old life, right?"

"I suppose." Brandon did not look convinced.

"Go on, lad!" Wolfgang Abentuer hobbled over, clapping Brandon on the back. "It's better than standing around here. At your age, you should be out adventuring. Especially with such good company."

"All right," Brandon reluctantly agreed.

"Excellent!" Shema clapped her hands delightedly.

"And you shall arrive in Shapeir in style!" Abdulla added. "My magic carpet can hold us all and our equipment easily."

"Then, what are we waiting for?" Hans assumed his heroic pose. "On to Shapeir!"

Author's Notes: And we're done! Thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed! Sorry it took so long for me to finally finish this one, but I'm very glad that I was able to do so. ^_^


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